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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319765">peace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinecookie/pseuds/madelinecookie'>madelinecookie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Hermione Granger, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Best Friends, Bonding, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Horcruxes, I’m A Swiftie, Love Triangles, Magical Bond, Muggles, On the Run, Romantic Soulmates, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Sweet Harry Potter, True Love, Unrequited Love, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:53:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinecookie/pseuds/madelinecookie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the search for the horcruxes, Harry loves Hermione in silence but vows to do whatever it takes to keep her and the Wizarding World safe. But what Harry doesn’t know is that his love for his best friend might actually be the key to winning the war. </p><p>Or my rewrite of the ending of the series starting at the beginning of Deathly Hollows where Harry and Hermione end up together - as they should have.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>283</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"Our coming-of-age has come and gone<br/>Suddenly the summer, it's clear<br/>I never had the courage of my convictions<br/>As long as danger is near<br/>And it's just around the corner, darling<br/>'Cause it lives in me<br/>No, I could never give you peace"</p><p><i>peace</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything in Harry Potter’s life was complicated, no one would argue otherwise. However, despite the constant peril each day brought him, several things could be boiled down to one truth: Hermione Granger was his partner in life. </p><p>Time and circumstances had forced the seventeen-year-old to face some truths that were far beyond his years, but could not be ignored. There were few people who could say they had experienced the same hardships and grief that had plagued the young wizard from birth - before conception truly - and there was a loneliness in his tragedy that Harry was painfully aware of. </p><p>Each night he laid in his bed, green eyes wide and unseeing through the darkness, reliving each loss of life, every misstep that led to disaster, and all the times he was silent when he should have spoken up. His mind was tired, exhausted as it tried to retrace every decision that had led him to the place he was now, wondering what he could have done differently, who he could have saved, and how he could learn from those mistakes. </p><p>Albus Dumbledore was dead and his absence brought into sharp focus the true weight bearing down on Harry and what awaited the Wizarding World should he fail.</p><p>And that was the trail of thoughts that brought him to the same conclusion everytime. Hermione, his best friend, was the reason he still lived and more recently, she was the reason he continued to fight. It was her intelligence, commitment, and unwavering faith in him that reminded him everyday that he had something - someone - that would be there until the very end whenever that end would come. </p><p>After he lost Sirius, Harry’s reality shifted in a way he hadn’t expected. There was loss and pain and insurmountable grief, but there was also a truth that had been trailing along the fringes of his peripheral for years. The guilt he felt about walking into Voldemort’s trap at the Ministry of Magic and indirectly causing his godfather’s death was immeasurable, but it put into perspective that he had been acting on emotion for far too long. Harry thought back to every life-threatening situation he had found himself in and could see clearly for the first time that more often than not it was his anger and fear and naivety that had brought him to those places. </p><p>He was hot headed, always a breath away from exploding, intentions noble and well meaning, but distorted from childish whims and deep rooted pain left over from the loss of his parents. It was unfair for him to blame himself entirely for his immaturity because children aren’t meant to know everything. All young people go blindly into their mistakes, deaf to the warnings of their elders, and then, hopefully, come out with a better understanding of the world, poised to make smarter decisions in the future. </p><p>There was also the unusual and unfair pressure placed on Harry and every choice he made. No one could argue that the responsibility Harry was given from birth was an easy cross to bear. The whole world was watching to see if he would succeed or fail, most rooting from him, but a dangerous group hoping for his demise. He was the chosen one, he knew this, and many others did as well. That thought alone would have, at one time, sent him spiraling into a haze of terror and irrationality. </p><p>But with his new outlook he realized that there wasn’t time for his emotions to get in the way of the mission he was on. He had to be strategic, detached from the painful situations that were sure to arise, and be devoted to killing Voldemort - no matter the cost. </p><p>And the only way he could do that was with the help of Hermione. </p><p>He was able to reflect and see that without her he would never have lived past his first year at Hogwarts. She was the true mastermind behind each of his successes and where he once might have ignored that truth, he no longer could. Her help and guidance were instrumental to his search and destruction of the horcruxes. It was her who was able to rationalize, think things through, often soothing Harry’s roaring emotions, effectively nipping in the bud disastrously reactive plots that were sure to end in misery. Without her Harry knew there could never be peace in the Wizarding World - or peace in him.</p><p>Returning to Hogwarts for the start of their sixth year, armed with this new understanding, he was hyper aware of everything around him. Each decision he made, even the ones directed by his heart instead of his head. All the strange happenings with Snape, the mysterious behavior of Dumbledore, and the seemingly consuming nature of the Half-Blood Prince’s potions book were constantly on the forefront of his mind, even if it did not appear so. But also, more quietly, more gently, Hermione was always in the foreground of his thoughts. She had taken up residence inside his mind, helping him sort out his frightened thinking, and comforting him at night when sleep evaded him.</p><p>Harry knew how Ron felt about Hermione, knew how Ginny was beginning to feel about him, and he thought he sometimes knew how Hermione felt. On paper it was clearly written out which direction life was pulling each of their hearts, but in practice it was much different. No matter how many times he turned away from his desire, he was always brought back into her orbit by the uncertainty, the strange what-if that lingered above their trio. Every touch, every smile, every eye roll, left Harry wanting more. He was embarrassed by the ache of emptiness he felt as he sat across the table from her each day, knowing if he could just reach out his hand to take hers the void would be filled. </p><p>Everyday he found himself once again stunned by her brilliance and grace, the delicate curve of her neck and the mesmerizing sprinkling of freckles across her nose. And each time was like the first time all over again, realizing that this young woman who he had always called a friend was so much more than that. She was his protector, his partner in class and in battle, the one person in the entire world that he knew, without a doubt, would go to war with him and for him. She was the one true thing, pure and selfless, asking for nothing, but giving him everything she had. </p><p>Of course, despite all of this, he had to appear the same as he always had. There was something sacred about the warm, solid weight of Hermione that lived inside of him and the possibility of rejection was enough to dissuade him from risking the bond they already shared. When she harped on him disapprovingly about the tattered, marked-up potions book he did as he always did and ignored her protests. When she cried needlessly on his shoulder because she saw Lavender Brown snogging Ron senseless he comforted her as any good friend would. And when Ginny Weasley lured him into a kiss he didn’t resist because if he couldn’t have Hermione then second best would do. </p><p>But things had changed. </p><p>Severus Snape had put one long boney finger to his lips, silencing Harry from alerting Dumbledore that his treacherous mentee was moments away from ending the older wizard’s life. As the bat of the dungeon swept through the castle with his fellow death eaters, Harry followed behind, blinded by his fury. Screaming curses through the emptiness of the night, he had been thwarted by the man who he had suspected to be the villain from the very beginning. And when Snape slipped away into the darkness, Harry knew then that there was no more time for childhood. Everyday was another day closer to the inevitable collision between dark and light, the uncertainty of Harry’s survival more evident than ever before. </p><p>Standing next to Ron and Hermione on the astrology tower, he felt the heaviness of change pushing down on him. There had been no sleep and with the flick of a wand the one person Harry had always looked to point his compass was gone. He turned his head to his best friend, his tired eyes drinking in her windswept hair and grim expression. There was no one more beautiful, that was one truth he knew he could hold onto. </p><p>All at once it seemed, Harry Potter realized that despite the depth of his grief, hope and love could overcome it. He would put one foot in front of the other, walk into certain danger, ready and willing to lay down his life for the greater good - for Hermione. They may never be more than friends, never give into the invisible connection that undeniably tied them together, but he knew, no matter the outcome, she was his lighthouse and he would spend the rest of his life swimming to her shores.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"If it's all in my head tell me now<br/>Tell me I've got it wrong somehow<br/>I know my love should be celebrated<br/>But you tolerate it"</p><p><i>tolerate it</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You will likely notice throughout this story that I have borrowed dialogue directly from the movies. I've done this for context and to fill in any places that I haven't altered in my own retelling.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It really was very strange to be having a wedding. </p><p>Harry was happy for Bill and Fleur, truly, and he couldn’t fault them for bumping up their marriage knowing that at any moment one or both could be killed. The couple’s families and friends, all on the right side of history, were targets of the death eaters and it was universally agreed, though not said, that there were going to be many casualties in the coming months. It was the first wedding Harry had ever attended and he hoped he would live to see another and experience what a wedding day would actually feel like without impending doom looming overhead.</p><p>The Weasley wedding also made his heart hurt. Being separated from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Order during the summer before returning to the Burrow had made his loneliness even worse, but it also exacerbated his anxiety. He had seemingly endless time at the Dursley’s to sit and think. He often thought about Dumbledore dying, replaying the moment in his mind until his head hurt and he had to close his eyes to block out the light. There were times when he went through everything he had learned about the horcruxes and what his next steps would be when the time came, but those plans always had glaring holes he couldn’t seem to fill on his own. </p><p>And he thought about Hermione. The memory of Ginny’s lips on his had faded before he had stepped off the Hogwarts Express at King’s Cross. After Dumbledore’s funeral he had implied that things between them had to be put on hold for the foreseeable future, but he regretted it as soon as the words had come out of his mouth. He cared for her, deeply even, but it was a shade of gray compared to the kaleidoscope of colors that burst inside him when he thought of Hermione. It would be easy to stay with Ginny, to fallback on her when things got hard or lonely, to run his hands over her soft body and pretend his fingers were tightly woven in wild caramel locks instead of fiery strands. But Harry couldn’t do that. He didn’t think he was capable of such deception, and wasn’t willing to hurt Ginny nor himself. He might not be in love with Ginny, but he loved her as much as he was able to. </p><p>So, it was frustrating when Ginny came into the kitchen with her dress unzipped, exposing her milky skin to Harry, his touch-starved fingers couldn’t resist one last moment with the young witch. But he knew it had gone too far when he found himself locked in a tender, but empty kiss with her. Instead of embarrassed, Harry was relieved when George awkwardly interrupted their moment and even more relieved when Rufus Scrimgeor, Minster of Magic, came to dispense the items in Dumbledore’s will to the trio. He knew that he was being selfish, avoiding the inevitable with Ginny, but it was the easiest thing of everything else to put off. </p><p>However, any chance to speak with Ginny to properly end things was ruined the moment the wedding reception came to a screeching halt by the exploding news that the Ministry of Magic had fallen. The day had been emotional and confusing, between a brief conversation amongst the three of them to discuss Dumbledore’s gifted items, the wedding itself, followed by Harry’s impromptu interview of Elphias Doge, there hadn’t been time for anything else. </p><p>As the wedding guests frantically moved to leave or hide, an all too familiar panic had risen in his throat as he desperately looked around the tent in search of Hermione and Ron. The moment he heard her call his name, he ran through the crowd, arm outstretched, reaching for Hermione - reaching for safety. When they apparated to Shaftesbury Avenue it took him more time then was warranted to let go of her hand. </p><p>“What are we doing? This is mad! We need to go back, make sure mum and dad and Ginny—“</p><p>“No!” Hermione said sharply, cutting Ron off mid sentence and looking around the empty alley anxiously. “They’ll be hoping we come back for the others. There’s too much risk.”</p><p>It was evening, the bustle of late night London was a dull hum in the background as the three quickly swapped out their party attire for street clothes. Harry and Ron respectfully turned away from Hermione to give her privacy even though she had put up an invisibility ward. Just knowing she was feet away, partially naked, vulnerable and exposed to whatever or whoever might be watching, put Harry on edge. He was clenching his jaw tightly, his eyes and ears straining through the dark for any sign of danger. </p><p>Once they were changed, there was a brief discussion on what to do next, but it was clear to the young men that Hermione had come far more prepared than they had. Her small handbag, charmed to hold a household of items, was tucked securely at her side as she explained her thoughts on their next move. </p><p>“I think we should start at Grimmauld Place, hideout there for a few days,” she explained in a low, hurried voice. Harry got the impression she had already made up her mind on the plan and was just trying to quickly fill them in rather than ask. “The Order has the building completely warded and so few outsiders know it exists at all. It’s unlikely that we will be found there and it will be nice to stay somewhere familiar.”</p><p>Ron and Harry quickly agreed and in a moment's time they were standing outside the familiar brick home of his deceased godfather. </p><p>Harry thought that he would feel the same sharp pain of loss that was no stranger to him, but found there was no space left inside himself to devote to things of the past. One day he might reflect again on Sirius’s death, but for now any unnecessary distractions could be the difference between smart decisions and dangerous ones. </p><p>They huddled together in the library that night, only venturing into the kitchen in search of food. The house was old, creaks and pops of the aged wood making them jump, but they knew they were alone. The quiet fear that had followed them for years had grown into a deafening roar that left them in a constant state of unease, hands always hovering over their wands, preparing to fight to the death at any moment. </p><p>Harry sat in an armchair across from the couch, observing his two best friends as they slept. Ron had graciously offered the couch to Hermione and was sleeping with a pillow under his head on the floor. The sleeping witch was laid just above him, eyes closed, breathing deeply, but he could see the worry still there on her features even in sleep. Harry saw the way her hand dangled over the side of the couch where she had fallen asleep holding Ron’s hand and he wondered to himself who had been comforting who. Sleep evaded him and his eyes couldn’t seem to stop looking at his friend’s hands. He thought about the soft touch of Hermione’s palm sliding gently across Ron’s rough calloused fingers and he felt jealous, but he also felt sad. </p><p>There were still horcruxes that needed to be found and destroyed, where they were was a mystery to him. The fact that the trace had been lifted from Harry now that he was of age did only a little to alleviate some of the anxiety of being hunted. There was so much left to do before Voldemort himself could be killed and there was an edge of hopelessness inside Harry that at times made him question the possibility of survival. So much was at stake, the lives of his friends and their families, but also of the rest of the world, wizard and muggle alike. How could one person, one young man who hadn’t even completed his schooling, be expected to save them all? </p><p>So, Harry found himself feeling jealous and sad that Hermione’s hand wasn’t clasped tightly in his, comforting him as waves of fear swept through him. He had spent so much time watching as she navigated through school and the toxicity of her relationship with Ron and all the other challenges that came with being Harry Potter’s best friend. During that time there were moments when he had wanted to step in, cross the line between friends and more than friends, finally release all the pent up emotion bottled inside of him, but he never had. Now, however, as he watched her sleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath, he didn’t feel strong enough to stop himself. </p><p>Instead, he felt weak and fragile and alone. The ache in his chest was stronger than it had ever been before and all he wanted was to cross the room, lay beside her, and let her hand intertwine with his. Just the touch of her hand would be enough to ease his restlessness and the chill in his bones. </p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>There was something tickling his forehead, gliding across his skin, brushing away his unkempt hair. It was a soft, warm touch that felt safe and familiar, like a healing balm on blistered skin. Harry’s eyes were closed having fallen asleep at some point in the night and his body was resistant to returning from slumber. </p><p>“Harry, wake-up.”</p><p>There was no mistaking Hermione’s melodic voice, whispering to him. He opened his eyes and saw the blurry outline of her thin frame and messy mane. Slowly, he pushed up his glasses that had somehow slipped down past his nose and come to rest on his chin. The morning light from the window was casting a hazy glow around Hermione and, as his eyes properly adjusted, he had the fleeting thought that she was ethereal, not of this world but something altogether mystical and rare. </p><p>“What is it?” Harry asked, straightening up in the chair. </p><p>“It’s Kreacher, he’s in the kitchen, Ron’s been questioning him about the locket,” she answered as she took a step back from him. Ignoring the faint flush of his cheeks at their soft interaction, Harry sprung up and made his way towards the kitchen, Hermione following closely behind. </p><p>The withered house elf was uglier than Harry remembered and the fowl slurs coming from his spiteful mouth made him that much more repulsive to Harry. </p><p>“Bringing that filthy mudblood into this house, my mistress will hear about this,” Kreacher seethed at Hermione, his yellow needle teeth twisting his smirk into an evil grimace. </p><p>“Don’t call her that!” Ron bellowed and although Harry didn’t disagree with his friend’s outburst, he knew better than to rile up the ancient creature. </p><p>Pulling the fake locket from his pocket, Harry thrust it into Kreacher’s face, backing him into the corner, giving him no place to escape too. </p><p>“Have you seen this locket before? There were two, where is the second one?” Harry asked firmly. </p><p>“I don’t have to answer any of your questions, you blood traitor. A disgrace to all purebloods” </p><p>“This house and everything inside was left to me by Sirius, including you,” Harry countered, hovering menacingly over the elf with an expression that left no room for argument. He knew the next words out of his mouth were sure to make Hermione fume with indignation, but Harry had to do whatever it took to get answers. “I am your master now, Kreacher.”</p><p>A beat of silence passed between the group as Kreacher appeared gobsmacked by the audacity of Harry’s statement and an expected humph of disapproval came from Hermione’s side of the room. But then quite suddenly, the elf broke into a pathetic moan of defeat and dismay at his lot in life and acquiesced to Harry’s demands.</p><p>“Where is the second locket?” </p><p>“It was here, in this house,” Kreacher answered in a gravelly voice.</p><p>“Where is it now? Did someone take it?”</p><p>Kreacher was visibly shrinking away from Harry, something in his memory disturbing him. </p><p>“He came in the night, he took many things, including the locket.” </p><p>“Who did? Who was it Kreacher?” </p><p>Harry knew he sounded anxious, frightened even, but the possibilities of what the house elf would say was threatening to take the air out of his lungs.  </p><p>“Mundungus, Mundungus Fletcher.”</p><p>A flash of white, hot anger shot through Harry like an electric shock and he was flooded with the fury of this betrayal. Traitor, thief, Mundungus.<br/>
“Find him.”</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>The trio’s trip to the Ministry, although successful in retrieving the locket, was disastrous in every other way. Mundungus had provided the information they needed after the promised threat of Harry’s wand; the locket was with Dolorse Umbridge. Getting into the Ministry of Magic would be risky, a death sentence really,  but nonetheless necessary. And for a moment, the briefest of moments, Harry thought they were going to make it out unscathed.</p><p>But then, the moment was gone and he was instead standing in a strange, cold forest, mouth open in a silent scream of terror as he watched Hermione frantically administer Essence of Dittany to Ron. He had been splinched during their escape and now the freckled young man was sprawled out on the hard dirt floor, writhing in pain, as blood continued to bubble to the surface of his gnarled, torn skin. Harry knew he would survive, but it had been a close call.</p><p>Once Hermione was satisfied that she had done all she could do to stop Ron’s bleeding and heal his arm, she and Harry began setting up camp. They worked in tense silence, Hermione diligently warding and re-warding their temporary home and Harry pitching the tent. Night had fallen and it had been dark long before they were through, but cutting corners wasn’t an option.</p><p>Like the clever witch she was, Hermione had packed a tent that was similar to that of the one he and Ron had stayed in for the Quiditch World Cup. Although appearing quite small from the outside, the interior revealed a small kitchen and dining area, a simple bathroom with a toilet and shower, and two sets of bunk beds. Harry’s whole body ached and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers of one of those beds and fall into a dreamless sleep, but he knew his mind wouldn’t allow for it. </p><p> Carefully levitating Ron into the tent, they had gently placed him on the bottom bunk of the beds he would share with Harry. He was sleeping restlessly, his face pale and sweaty, plagued by some unseen demon. Hermione had given him a sleeping draught to help provide him some relief from the agonizing pain that was surely ripping through his body, but they could see it was just barely doing its job. </p><p>When Hermione was sure that Ron would not wake, she wordlessly slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her silently. After a few moments, he heard the shower turn on and knew he had a short reprieve from keeping his calm exterior intact in front of his friend. Hermione’s hands had been coated in Ron’s blood and Harry knew that no matter how strong Hermione was, nothing could assuage the pain and fear she likely felt. He wanted to go to her, but he stayed where he was. </p><p>It felt like hours had passed when Harry lifted his head to see her emerging from the bathroom and crossing the room to him. She had redressed into a pair of clean jeans and he recognized the soft worn jumper he had seen her wear a thousand times before. He had been sitting on the bed across from Ron’s, looking down at his feet, trying to calm his racing heart, to wrap his head around the impossible situation they were in. As Hermione sat down beside him, their shoulders touched, and he felt much of the tension in his body dissolve. He could smell the soap on her skin and all he wanted to do was drink in her scent until he drowned. </p><p>“We can’t go back,” she said quietly. “Yaxley grabbed hold of me at the Ministry, he saw Grimmauld Place. It’s not safe anymore.”</p><p>Harry could hear the tinge of guilt in her voice and it made him turn quickly to look at her.</p><p>“Hey, this isn’t your fault,” he said gently, nudging her with his shoulder. “Anything can happen at any time with the situation we’re in, there is no way to control everything, it’s impossible. You were quick on your feet getting us away from Grimmauld place. Neither Ron or I could have thought that fast. You saved us from being caught.”</p><p>“But Ron got splinched, he was seriously injured, and an injury like that could mean life or death for us,” she responded, a quiver in her voice that threatened tears. He was neither surprised nor upset that she was talking less about Ron and his injury and more about how it would impact them and their progress. She was right, anything that hindered their ability to be alert and perform magic was a potential danger for them all. They were more powerful together, but one weak link could be their downfall.</p><p>“You were able to give him the potion in time, aside from a wicked scar, he is going to be fine. Until he is fully healed we will have to be more careful, making smart decisions and being extra cautious.”</p><p>“So no more trips to the Ministry?” Hermione teased, leaning into him a little more with a smile.</p><p>“Exactly, no more suicide missions for at least a week,” he agreed with a grin, soaking up her warmth and the weight of her against him. The small place where their bodies were joined, shoulder-to-shoulder, was enough contact to keep him tethered to the earth - at least for that moment.</p><p>“We will have to move campsites frequently, staying in one place for too long could attract locals or snatchers.” Hermione continued, her smile gone and her voice more grim. “I’ve packed enough food for the three of us to last a week, but soon we will have to take into consideration our proximity to food sources and the risk that might come with going into towns and cities” </p><p>“It’s been a long day, we’re both tired, there’s no point trying to sort everything out tonight.” Harry said, holding up a hand to stop her from continuing. “Tomorrow, after we’ve had at least a few hours of sleep and eaten something, we will have the energy to go over everything more carefully. You might have mastered a time turner, Hermione, but even you need rest sometimes.” </p><p>Harry’s words were gentle, but firm. They both knew that he was right, nothing productive would happen that night. And no matter how much he would love to spend the rest of the night leaning together in the dark, sleep was more important for the moment.</p><p>“I love Ron,” she said, startling him with her sudden change of topic and turning so her whole body was facing him. She placed her hands on his arm and he looked down where they rested on him, obscuring his face from view in an attempt to mask the hurt he knew she would find there.</p><p>“He is our best friend,” she continued. “And today I thought he might die and it made me realize how much I rely on you both and how I never want the three of us to be separated. But it also made me see that I’ve been selfish.” </p><p>This made Harry come up short and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Hermione was the most selfless person he knew, how could she possibly think she was selfish? Seeing the question on his face, she tightened her hold on him.</p><p>“I’ve always wanted to keep Ron close, make sure he is a part of everything we do, even when it might not be what’s best for him. I do think we are stronger as a unit, but that’s only when the three of us are operating on the same wavelength, which we rarely are. I have no doubt that Ron can hold his own when he isn’t reactive or emotional, but you and I both know he struggles to manage his feelings.” </p><p>She stopped and looked at Harry as if trying to urge him to say out loud what she was trying to explain, but he wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted from him.

“Are you suggesting we leave Ron..?” </p><p>The question was odd coming out of Harry’s mouth, the words strange on his tongue because although he had privately had the same thought, he would never have expected Hermione to share this thought let alone say it out loud.</p><p>“No!” Hermione said quickly, her voice rising just an octave too loud for the quiet of their tent. They both looked over to Ron quickly, frightful he had been awakened by her exclamation, but the redhead was still asleep, though not peacefully.</p><p>“Of course I’m not suggesting we leave him behind,” she went on, though much quieter than before. “What I’m suggesting is that if he wants to go, if he decides for whatever reason that looking for horcruxes isn’t something he can do, we don’t stop him.”</p><p>Several long moments passed in silence while they both looked at each other intently, his green eyes wide with surprise and her brown ones ashamed, but steady. Harry knew that Hermione was always doing her best to protect and care for her friends. She had shown time and time again that she was willing to go to great lengths to keep both he and Ron safe. So, it wasn’t necessarily surprising that she had walked through each scenario in her head and come to the same conclusion every time - Ron was unreliable. </p><p>On more than one occasion he had turned his back on Harry when he needed him. He hadn’t trusted Harry about the Triwizard Tournament, had always been jealous and angry of the unwanted attention and praise that followed Harry wherever he went, and Harry knew that Hermione had countless examples of Ron’s mistreatment of her. </p><p>At the end of each day, like clockwork, Ron would come around again, apologize for his meanness, blame his behavior on whatever emotional trigger he claimed had set him off, and when it counted he had been there. But those situations had been different, petty, childish, and insignificant in comparison to the challenges they now faced. There was no way to be sure that the pressure they were under now wouldn’t tear Ron apart. There were a million ways that Ron could be helpful in aiding the light with their war effort, doing his part to defeat Voldemort, but this part of the mission, the running and hiding and uncertainty, might not have been the right path for Ron.</p><p>But leaving them behind? That Harry couldn’t quite imagine Ron doing.</p><p>“He wouldn’t just pick up and leave us,” he said slowly. She didn’t say anything so he pressed on, choosing his next words carefully.</p><p>“He wouldn’t leave <i>you</i>.” </p><p>The moment he said it Harry knew that something had shifted. Hermione’s posture changed, she pulled her hands from him, and looked away. </p><p>“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she whispered. He hoped she would continue, but when she didn’t he decided to push further, aware that his curiosity was more selfish than she knew.</p><p>“I always thought you two were.” he moved his hand awkwardly in the air to indicate something more than friendship. “He’s told me how he feels about you. After last year, with everything that happened with Lavender, I thought you must feel the same.” </p><p>The conversation was tipping into dangerous territory and Harry had to remind himself that there was too much at stake to give in to his own feelings. But it didn’t change how desperate he was to know if maybe he had gotten it all wrong. </p><p>“I do feel the same, I mean I did,” she explained with a burst of hushed frustration. “Since we were little I always thought his teasing was his way of flirting with me. I thought that even when we were arguing it was just another way he was giving me his attention. Boys make girls feel stupid and crazy, turning them inside out with casual cruelness. Harry, you never once made me feel small or insignificant or dumb -” </p><p>“Because you aren’t dumb!” Harry interrupted, but quickly quieted down to allow her to finish. </p><p>“I know I’m not dumb, that’s the problem. I let him make me feel like I was the problem, that I was the nuisance, and I tolerated it all because I thought he liked me. I thought he wanted me.”</p><p>She stopped and Harry saw how hard her face had become, no suggestion of weakness or tears to be seen, and all at once he realized that this was a battle Hermione had silently been fighting a long time and she had done all the crying she needed to do.</p><p>“Ron does like you,” he said carefully. “He’s just shit at showing it.” </p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t want someone who makes me feel small just because he doesn’t know how to talk to a girl. I know there are people out there who would never make me question if they cared about me or not. That’s what I want, someone who doesn’t have one foot out the door.”</p><p>There was an uncomfortable tension thrumming between them, born from the emotional vulnerability being so openly shared. They had always, for the most part, been on the same page, aware of what the other was feeling, if only in an abstract way, but they had never spoken so plainly about it. It was uncomfortable, but not necessarily in a bad way. Harry recognized that Hermione’s willingness to confide in him and his patience to listen to her was just one more thing that pulled them tighter together, keeping them close and secure.</p><p>“You deserve someone who is all in because that’s the kind of person you are.” he said softly.</p><p>“Thank you, Harry.” </p><p>They were quiet again for a moment and then a muffled groan from Ron interrupted their mutual contemplation.  </p><p>“Ron knows how I feel about him. He might not have fully accepted it yet, but he knows I’m not interested in him. There is little I wouldn’t do to protect him, but at some point I have to start looking out for myself.”</p><p>“And you should,” he said to her. “Sometimes you have to put yourself first.”</p><p>There was another long pause, but then she stood up from the bed, signaling the end of their conversation.</p><p>Understanding that she wanted to lay down, Harry moved off her bed and climbed atop his bunk, suddenly so exhausted he couldn’t keep his head up. Laying on his side facing Hermione’s bunk he watched her crawl under her own covers and roll on her side. They looked at each other for a long time, as if both of them were seeing each other for the first time, and it struck Harry as odd that he had ever thought that someone as intelligent and beautiful as Hermione could ever love someone who didn’t understand her. Hermione and Ron as a couple didn’t make sense anymore, it didn’t translate in theory or in practice.</p><p>A long journey was stretched out before them, no one quite certain where it would lead. Never before had they been so alone, with no one to guide them or help them along the treacherous path they were walking. They couldn’t be sure who was friend or foe, the question remained of who they would lose and who they had already lost. It truly was just the three of them, isolated and wandering blindly in every direction, searching for what, they did not know for sure. </p><p>As Harry drifted to sleep, he fell into a dream where their trio shifted to a duo and he found that it wasn’t always true that there was safety in numbers. Sometimes two people was more than enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I didn't have it in myself to go with grace<br/>And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves<br/>You had to kill me but it killed you just the same<br/>Cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed<br/>You turned into your worst fears<br/>And your tossing out blame, drunk on this pain<br/>Crossing out the good years<br/>And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed<br/>Look how my tears ricochet"</p><p><i>my tears ricochet</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Folks, I'm not from Ireland, I'm from the midwest! I did my best with choosing Ballycastle, but probably failed miserably. Keep that in mind and please leave feedback!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Several weeks passed and little progress was made. </p><p>After Ron recovered fully from his injury, he joined the pair in their attempts to destroy the locket, but none were successful. No amount of force, magic or otherwise, could penetrate the horcrux and it quickly became apparent there was still much to do on their mission.</p><p>Each day they found themselves in a strangely unpredictable routine, the framework of the day was always the same, but the places in between were uncertain, unknown threats lurking behind every corner. They attempted to find normalcy in their lives, each assigned dedicated tasks that helped to keep them organized and moving like a well oiled machine. But it was too dangerous to stay in one place for long and their need for food always forced them to stay on the move. </p><p>Maybe if they had a plan, even the slightest bit of direction, the nomadic wouldn’t have been so miserable. But the fact of the matter was that they didn’t know what they were looking for. The basic concept was there, both Hermione and Harry felt they understood exactly what they <i>needed</i> to do, but how to accomplish it was the question.</p><p>“Tell it to me again, Harry.” Hermione would say, eyes squinting at the young man, ready to again try and pick apart the riddle that Dumbledore had left them.</p><p>“I’ve said it a million times,” Harry would sigh, putting his glasses to the side and digging the palms of his hands into his weary eyes.</p><p>“We’re just missing something, say it again.” </p><p>And with a deep, rattling breath, he would repeat the same thing he had said for months. </p><p>“Voldemort created seven horcruxes, putting a piece of his soul into each object. Until those objects are destroyed he cannot fully die. Tom Riddle’s diary was one of them and I destroyed it with the basilisk fang. Then there was the ring, which Dumbeldore took care of. Now we have the locket, which we can’t destroy and four other horcruxes, all of which are hidden in places we can’t find and wouldn’t even be able to pick out if we knew where to look.” </p><p>Hermione would put her chin in her hand, nodding slowly, absorbing the information that they had gone over line by line, word for word so many times before. </p><p>“And we suspect Nagini might be one,” she would add as if this was a new idea and Harry would nod pitifully because what else could he really say? They were working off more speculation than fact and Harry was sure that his brain was going to melt out of his ears if he continued trying to fill in all the blanks.</p><p> “You’re sure that Dumbledore didn’t say anything else? Think really hard, Harry.” </p><p>It was about this time that he would start to lose his cool because he had thought really hard and nothing new ever came to mind. </p><p>And no matter how strategic or detached they tried to discuss these things, it always led down the same emotional path. </p><p>“What’s the point of these stupid things Dumbledore gave us?” Ron would huff, temper rising with no provocation. “A lighter and snitch? Those are useless to us. And giving Hermione a children’s book? The man was losing his mind, no wonder people thought he was barking mad!” </p><p>It was a sure fire way for Ron to provoke Harry and a seemingly rehearsed argument would break out in the tent.</p><p>“He wasn’t mad, he was brilliant!” </p><p>“Then why couldn’t he have just told you where the horcruxes were? Why was everything a damn game to him?” </p><p>Ron’s face was sure to be cherry red and Harry’s hands trembling. Once the peacemaker, Hermione had now resigned herself to apathetically watching the exchange knowing anything she said would fall on deaf ears.</p><p>“We can’t do this alone, we need help.” Ron would eventually say, finally getting to the heart of his fury. “The Order can help us, they can keep us somewhere safe. We don’t have to keep living in the forest like animals. We’re no safer here than we would be with mum and dad or Lupin and Tonks.” </p><p>Tired of going over the same thing again and again, Harry would collapse in a chair, body heavy with exhaustion and knit his thin fingers into his unruly hair.</p><p>“No one knows what we’re doing, Ron. Not your parents or the Order or anyone else. Finding and destroying these horcruxes are the only way we can defeat Voldemort. If he somehow found out what we were doing, he might move them or make it so we can’t destroy them. We can’t trust anyone right now.”</p><p>Like a balloon leaking air, Ron would deflate, knowing Harry was right and knowing he was stuck in what he thought was a hopeless situation.</p><p>“Going back is dangerous for the others too,” Hermione would sometimes add gently, trying to appeal to Ron’s protective side, hoping that the idea of bringing danger to his family would end his attempts to steer them away from their mission. </p><p>And for a while it would work, Ron would go back to sulking as Harry and Hermione continued, in vain, to gather all the pieces to the twisted puzzle.</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>As time went on, Harry found that his relationship with Hermione was evolving. Without distractions from school or friends, Harry discovered that he actually quite enjoyed doing research. He had never failed a class at Hogwarts, but there had been a few times when he thought he would, but it wasn’t from lack of intelligence. Instead, it was because he had been an unfortunate combination of lazy, distracted, and at times uninterested. He knew that he had often relied on his natural magical talent to get him through school and anything more academic he either ignored or cajoled Hermione into doing for him. </p><p>Now, as the pressure mounted and desperation began setting in, he realized it wasn’t so bad to spend time reading and researching, debating and theorizing. He and Hermione had always had an easy, natural dialogue, rarely stilted or forced, but he had never attempted to converse with her as an intellect, always assuming he would fall miserably short. However, as each day passed working side-by-side with a shared goal, he was pleasantly surprised to learn that he could in fact be just close enough to her level to hold a conversation. </p><p>Hermione, ever the academic and strategist, had the foresight to bring a small library’s worth of literature for them to reference during their search.</p><p>“When I started realizing there was a good chance we would end up on the run, I started gathering supplies here and there. I knew I wouldn’t have access to Hogwarts library or any other magical texts so it was imperative that I had these books on hand.”</p><p>The two of them were sitting at the small table in their tent, Harry watching with amused astonishment as Hermione pulled book after book out of her small bag.</p><p>“Did you steal these?” Harry laughed, picking up a large tome with cracked leather binding the pages together. The title read <i>A Thousand and One Practical Uses for Lawn Clippings</i> and he rolled his eyes wondering what they could possibly need lawn clippings for.</p><p>“Don’t be absurd,” she replied dismissively while she was nearly shoulder deep in her bag as she blindly felt around for something. “I just copied them.” </p><p>“Copied them?” Harry repeated, confused.</p><p>“Well, duplicated really,” she clarified as she pulled her arm from her bag, hand tightly clasped around a small stack of loose pieces of parchment. He could see her neat lettering scribbled across the pages. </p><p>“It was a tricky bit of magic, most definitely not taught in school, and some texts were charmed so they couldn’t be replicated. Once I found the spell, though, I learned it quickly and got straight to making my own copies of books I thought we’d need.”</p><p>Harry was both surprised and impressed by Hermione’s clear violation of library policies. He had always felt a rush of exhilaration when she had broken the rules at school. To him it was the best indicator that she was on fire, ready to go, nothing holding her back from doing what she thought was just and right. Now, though, he found it sexy, daring, a side of her that was more often than not brought out because of him. It didn’t matter that it was just breaking the rules over books, the motivation behind her rebellion was her readiness to plan, protect, and fight alongside him. She amazed him.</p><p>It was in mid-October, during one of their late night research sessions, that the silence of the night was shattered by the sound of something - or someone - moving just beyond the campsite.</p><p>Faster than anyone would have thought possible, the three were up on their feet, hands outstretched with their wands pointed to the opening of the tent.</p><p>“What is it?” Ron whispered anxiously, looking to Hermione to answer as if she could know.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she responded quietly. “We are protected, I’m confident my wards will hold. It could just be an animal passing through.”</p><p>Earlier that day they had apparated to a remote place in Northern Ireland, totally secluded on a forested cliff that backed against the ocean. Aside from a quick stop in Ballycastle to replenish their food supply, they had spent most of the day inside the tent, shielding themselves from the harsh winds and plummeting temperature. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that they hadn’t been seen or that they could easily be discovered. If it wasn’t an animal, but in fact a person, they had to have known where to look for them.</p><p>The rustling of the canvas from the tent made it hard to distinguish each sound outside, but as they strained their ears, holding their breath in frightened anticipation, they could make out the sound of footsteps approaching </p><p>“Hermione, do you have all our essentials packed away?” Harry questioned in a hushed, but rushed tone. He had turned his head just slightly to throw a meaningful look to her. They wouldn’t have time to break down their camp, as long as they had the necessities they could apparate with what they did have.</p><p>“I’ve got what we need, but we can’t apparate from inside my wards,” she answered with rising distress in her voice. “I don’t know how I hadn’t thought of that."</p><p>Harry gave a quick shake of his head to stop her from following that train of thought. He needed her to be level headed, not focused on what she should have done differently.<br/>
“It’s fine, we’ll figure something out.” Harry said confidently, running through every defensive spell he could remember and trying to work out if there was another exit.</p><p>But then they heard the voices.</p><p>“They should be ‘round here somewhere.”</p><p>It was an unfamiliar voice to Harry, but he knew, instinctually, that this was not a friend.</p><p>“I don’t see anything,” another voice said. “Maybe they already left.”</p><p>The pair had stopped, just feet away from where they stood hidden. </p><p>“Nah, they’s still here,” the first voice responded. “Parkinson said Pansy overheard where they were just a few hours ago.”</p><p>Icy fear trickled down Harry’s spine and he felt his whole body tense. How could someone know where they were and who told Pansy Parkinson? He glanced to Hermione who mirrored his confused panic. She looked to Ron, who had taken several steps back from the entrance, fear evident in his wide eyes. </p><p>“We need a distraction so Hermione can take down the wards, get them far enough away for us to apparate.” Harry offered, hoping they could think of something that would confuse the snatchers.</p><p>“I’ve got an idea,” Hermione said quickly, turning and moving swiftly to the back of the tent. Keeping his eyes on the door, Harry walked backwards to where his two friends were huddled. Pointing to the tent wall, Hermione whispered <i>“Diffindo”</i> effectively slicing a large hole in the canvas.</p><p>“My wards will recognize my magic and let me pass through. I’ll get them away from the campsite.” Hermione explained, pointing in the direction away from the cliffside where the small clearing turned into thick forest.</p><p>Harry stiffened at the thought of her going alone into the night with the snatchers just a few yards away, but he kept his mouth shut.</p><p>“Gather anything you can manage, put it in the bag, and be ready to apparate as soon as I come back. I don’t know how long I will have.”</p><p>Before either of them could agree or protest, Hermione had shoved her bag into Ron’s hands and disappeared through into the night. </p><p>For a moment neither wizard made to move, but hearing the murmur of the two voices kicked them into gear. Frantically they began scouring the tent for whatever they could get their hands on. Harry went directly to the table where his and Hermione’s research lay abandoned, but before he could get the word <i>Reducio</i> out of his mouth there was a bang so forceful it nearly knocked them off balance.</p><p>“What the hell?” Harry heard one of the snatchers yell. </p><p>“Look, over there, the trees are on fire!” </p><p>Footsteps began running in the direction of the explosion and he knew that was the signal to go.</p><p>“Come on, we’ve got to go right now!” Harry shouted to Ron pointing to the door. Unable to grab everything, he shoved as much of their parchments and books into the bag before turning and meeting Ron outside. </p><p>The timing was perfect. Just as Harry came to stop outside the tent next to Ron, he saw Hermione’s small figure running full speed towards them. She had her wand up and Harry realized she was taking down the wards mid sprint.</p><p>But just when he was reaching one hand out to take hold of Ron in preparation for apparition, Harry’s heart stopped. One of the snatchers had rounded on Hermione and was trailing behind her closely, only steps away from reaching her.</p><p>“Hermione! Behind you!” Ron screamed loudly making her glance quickly over her shoulder in time to see the man lift his wand in her direction.</p><p>Harry could see the snatcher’s mouth opening, preparing to shout some unknown curse at Hermione’s back and time seemed to slow down. In one swift movement, Harry stepped forward, hand outstretched to Hermione, and screamed <i>”Sectumsempra!”</i></p><p>Before he could finish saying the curse, his fingers locked tightly around Hermione’s hand, pulling her into him. He saw the snatcher be knocked off his feet, but then Ron came from behind, crashing into him. There was a tug on his naval and he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet.</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>Seconds later, the three landed hard on wet pavement. </p><p>Harry’s elbows and back had  taken the brunt of the fall, his head thankfully coming to rest on the ground with a small thud. The impact was just forceful enough to knock his glasses from his face and he wasn’t sure where they had landed. His arms were still wrapped tightly around Hermione, who also was unscathed, secured against Harry’s chest. Ron, however, had not been so lucky. </p><p>The redhead had fallen onto the concrete like he had tried belly flopping into a pool. The wind had been knocked out of him and as he rolled onto his side, coughing and gasping for air, they could see that his lip was bleeding and one side of his face had several cuts from where the gravel had dug into his cheek.</p><p>As Ron dry heaved, moaning painfully when he was able to catch a breath, Hermione leapt off Harry and quickly went to her friend’s side. With efficient, quick movements of her wand she was able to stem the bleeding of his lip and heal his face so it wouldn’t scar. </p><p>Harry stood up, raising his wand, preparing to duel if they had any unwanted tag alongs, but they were alone.</p><p>Spotting his glasses on the ground, Harry snatched them up and put them on. Walking a short circle around Hermione and Ron, he took in their surroundings, though it was fractured by his damaged lenses. They were in a back street of a city, but which one he wasn’t sure. The sound of car horns honking and busy foot traffic were coming from one road over, but there was no one in sight.</p><p>“Where are we?” Harry asked a little breathlessly, chest rising and falling quickly. The adrenaline coursing through his system was making him feel jumpy and his heart hadn’t slowed down to its normal rhythm.</p><p>“Chicago.” Hermione answered standing up. She was checking over herself, looking for injuries and although Harry couldn’t see any sign of blood, he knew some magic wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Taking a step towards her, he touched her shoulder gently.</p><p>“Are you okay? Did you get hit by anything?”</p><p>She shook her head no in response, but didn’t say anything else. If he hadn’t been standing so close to her, he might not have been able to see the slight quiver of her lip. Choosing to ignore it, to give her a chance to regroup, he turned to Ron instead. </p><p>“Can you stand?” </p><p>Ron had stopped coughing and seemed to have regulated his breathing. With shaky limbs, he stood slowly, taking an experimental step forward.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said gruffly. </p><p>Harry gave a nod and then looked up at the sky. Several buildings were towering above them and the night sky was lit up like the daytime. He knew of Chicago, of course, but had never travelled so far.</p><p>“The US, huh? That’s an interesting choice,” he quipped to Hermione. </p><p>“I wanted to get us as far away from there as possible,” she shrugged. “I don’t know why Chicago popped into my head.” </p><p>“Well, I imagine we are likely safe for the moment.” </p><p>The three of them were quiet, but then the questions came.</p><p>“How did the snatchers find us?” </p><p>“And how did Pansy get our location?”</p><p>“Did you perform wandless magic, Harry?”</p><p>That question gave him pause and the moment replayed back in his mind. He couldn’t quite remember, it had happened so fast. </p><p>“I was holding my wand in the tent and I think I was when we went outside to meet you, but then I grabbed you so I guess not?” </p><p>“I didn’t see you put away your wand, but I’ve never seen a wizard perform magic that quickly before,” Ron interjected. “It was like someone had sped you up or something. It was weird, mate.” </p><p>Hermione looked at Harry thoughtfully for a minute, but then moved her attention to Ron.</p><p>“You’ve got the bag?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s right here.” Ron pulled open his jacket to reveal Hermione’s purse tucked safely away in an interior pocket. As he reached to take it out, gingerly handling the bag to avoid any rogue items from falling out, the clink of metal on pavement roared through the quiet alley way. Looking down to where Ron stood, Harry’s eyes saw a single galleon laying on the ground beside his friend’s trainers.</p><p>Hermione’s gasp was all the confirmation he needed.</p><p>“Ronald, you didn’t.”</p><p>Their friend had stooped down to pick up the coin and was backing up slowly. Ron had shoved the charmed D.A. token into his jeans pocket, one hand reaching around to grab the back of his reddening neck.</p><p>“I’m sorry, ‘Mione. I needed to make sure everyone was okay. I only used it a few times to talk to Ginny, I swear. I let her know we were in Ballycastle so she could stop mum from worrying. She’s the only person I reached out to.” </p><p>“She must have repeated it to someone Ron!”</p><p>Taking one long stride, Harry grabbed Ron by the collar of his jacket and shoved him back against the building. Ron’s head bounced off the brick, but that didn’t stop Harry from pressing down even harder on Ron’s chest, pinning him tightly between the wall and Harry’s arm. </p><p>“You fucking idiot,” he seethed, their faces inches apart. Ron’s panicked eyes darted to Hermione for help, but it did nothing to tame Harry’s fury. “Do you realize that you could have gotten us killed? Everything we have worked for, all the time we have spent trying to win this war, would be gone all because poor baby Ron was a little homesick.” </p><p>The mocking of Harry’s voice was enough to give the other wizard some of his fight back. Using his height to his advantage, Ron roughly pushed Harry back with his shoulder, creating enough space for him to escape from against the wall. </p><p>“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare, Harry!” Ron yelled, jabbing his finger through the air. “You don’t know what it’s like to worry about your parents or siblings, all your family is dead.”</p><p>Pulling his fist back, in an imitation of Hermione from third year, Harry gathered momentum and then stepped forward, leaning into the punch that cracked across Ron’s face. The Weasley staggered backward, a hand covering his nose, a trickle of blood seeping through his fingers.</p><p>Harry was sure that his knuckles would be bruised and he shook his hand to alleviate the sting, but his eyes never left Ron. He could see Hermione oscillating between the two of them, unsure which of them to go to. After a few steps of indecision, she stilled, perhaps deciding that she wasn’t interested in getting involved in their fight. </p><p>“I don’t have to deal with this shit,” Ron spat, smearing blood across his cheek with the back of his hand. “Hermione and I don’t need to follow you wherever you go. You don’t even know what you’re looking for.” </p><p>Harry wasn’t even particularly interested in what Ron was saying, it was just what Hermione had predicted would happen. Ron wasn’t capable of committing himself to the mission that they had undertaken. It was clear that Harry couldn’t afford to continue pretending that his friend had been walking the same path as him, he hadn’t been since the beginning. If Ron stayed he would most certainly be their demise.</p><p>“Just go then. No one is keeping you here. Go back home, where your mum takes care of you and nothing is hard. You’re better suited for watching rather than doing.” </p><p>Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and Harry knew that she recognized what he was doing.</p><p>“I’m not asking you to stay, it’d probably be easier if you weren’t here,” Harry continued, rolling his wand in his fingers at his side. “Hermione and I can manage on our own.”</p><p>With a snort, Ron smirked at Harry, his posture loosening with confidence. </p><p>“She’s not going to stay with you,” Ron said with a smugness that would have put any Slytherin to shame. “We’re leaving together.”</p><p>Both men turned to look at Hermione, Ron looking at her expectantly and Harry trying to hide his anxiety. He knew it was not like Hermione to go back on her word, but they had never been in a situation like this before. Even when Harry and Ron would argue back in school, she rarely picked a side, always splitting her time between the two of them, even if she had agreed with one over the other privately. It wasn’t in her nature to abandon those she cared for, even when they were wrong, and Harry wondered if she was reconsidering what she had previously said knowing that staying might mean never seeing Ron again. </p><p>Adjusting her bag more securely across her body, Hermione walked to stand next to Harry. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, swallowing the urge to take her hand as a gesture of both gratitude and unity. </p><p>The redhead paled, shrinking back from the pair as if Hermione had slapped him. Maybe encouraged by Ron’s reaction to her display of independence, Hermione inched closer to Harry so their arms were now brushing, leaving no room between them and no room for doubt.</p><p>“Him? You’re going to choose him over me?” Ron tried, all his bravado gone, replaced instead by shocked indignation.</p><p>“It’s not about you or him,” Hermione replied coolly. “It’s about what’s wrong and right. I’m not choosing Harry, I’m choosing to help defeat the Dark Lord. I trust that Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he told Harry about the horcruxes. So, that’s what I’m choosing.” </p><p>“No, you’re choosing him!” Ron shot back with more bite. Hermione’s words had reignited his temper. “Is this why you don’t want to be with me? Because of Harry? I always knew you two were sneaking around behind my back.” </p><p>“Now you’re just being ignorant,” Harry sighed with exasperation. Ron knew very well that Hermione and Harry had always been just friends, he was letting his hurt pride cloud his thinking.</p><p>“Don’t call me ignorant!” Ron yelled. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, you’d have to be fucking blind to miss it. This is what you wanted, huh Harry? You want me to leave so you can get Hermione alone!”</p><p>“That’s enough!” </p><p>Hermione had taken a forceful step forward, drawing her wand and pointing it towards Ron, who visibly recoiled.</p><p>“You don’t make choices for me and neither does Harry. Get your head out of your arse, Ron, and just leave. There is nothing going on between Harry and I, but even if there were, I wouldn’t hide it from you or anyone else!” </p><p>Perhaps realizing he had gone too far or more likely knowing that he was no match against Hermione, Ron gave one last furious look to the pair before disappearing with a pop. </p><p>Harry and Hermione stood very still for several long moments, the gravity of what had just transpired settling in like a damp chill. Harry had questions. He was angry and felt betrayed, wanted to make sure Hermione was okay, but he also had an expanding bubble of love and appreciation swelling inside his chest. </p><p>Stowing her wand away into her sleeve, Hermione turned with a tired sigh and gave Harry a weary look.</p><p>“We need to leave, we’ve already been here too long. Without a tent our sleeping arrangement is looking grim. Going somewhere warmer will at least stop us from freezing overnight.” </p><p>“Right, lead the way then,” he agreed, holding out his hand for her to take so they could apparate.</p><p>“Wait,” she said, bypassing his hand to stand toe-to-toe with him. Harry blinked rapidly, surprised, staying very still so as not to scare her away.</p><p>But instead of leaning in to brush her lips against his, as he hoped she would, she pulled her wand back out, pointed it to Harry’s glasses and murmured <i>”Oculus Reparo”</i>. </p><p>The glass of his lens shifted back into its proper place and Harry’s eyes adjusted as the world seemed to right itself.</p><p>With a small smile, Hermione gave a satisfied nod and grabbed Harry’s hand. Intertwining her small fingers with his, Harry gave them a tight squeeze.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered, hoping she knew he wasn’t talking about his glasses.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes<br/>And guns<br/>They are the hunters, we are the foxes<br/>And we run</p><p>Baby, I know places we won't be found<br/>And they'll be chasing their tails tryin' to track us down<br/>Cause I, I know places we can hided<br/>I know places, I know places"</p><p><i>I Know Places</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Folks, I need some feedback. Are you liking things so far?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Without a tent to stay in, a deficit of both magical and muggle resources, and no immediate contacts meant that he and Hermione were left to their own devices. They needed a place to rest, to recuperate, but with so little information coming from the Wizarding world, they couldn’t be sure where or what was safe anymore. </p><p>It was this lack of knowledge that led them to take refuge in a London homeless shelter. The beds were hard, the food bland, but there was a sense of anonymity that made them both breathe a little more easily - if only for one night.</p><p>Laying side-by-side, with only a small gap of cracked linoleum between them, Harry looked at Hermione through the dimness of the room. She wasn’t sleeping, but her eyes were closed and he wondered if she was planning their next move or maybe instead reciting potion ingredients to tire out her active brain. He was reminded of Grimmauld Place, Hermione’s hand holding Ron’s, the couple falling asleep with the warmth of familiarity comforting them. Harry thought back to his jealousy, the sadness and loneliness he had felt, and how he had wanted so desperately for her to hold him instead. </p><p>Reaching out slowly, his arm heavy with exhaustion, he placed his hand over where hers laid on the mattress next to her head. Hermione’s brown eyes flickered open and she looked to where their hands touched and then across to Harry. Neither of them said anything and after many quiet moments their breathing synced together, as though maybe they were one instead of two. </p><p>Finally unable to keep her eyes open, Hermione twisted her hand to intertwine their fingers, securing them tightly, and then fell into a deep sleep. </p><p>For a long time after that, Harry continued to look at the sleeping girl. He was trying to memorize everything about that snapshot in time; the weight of her hand in his, the way their fingers laced together into a perfect knot, and the way her eyelashes brushed lightly against her cheeks as her closed eyes fluttered, watching some unseen dream playing behind her eyelids. And he knew then, as maybe he had always known, for him it had to be Hermione because nothing else would ever be enough.</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>“We need to rethink things, switch strategies. Things aren’t working this way.” </p><p>Harry and Hermione were sitting across from each other in a hole in the wall cafe somewhere in Manchester. They were sharing a plate of eggs and links, sipping on black coffee, the last of their money tucked away in their waitress’s apron pocket.</p><p>“Do you have any ideas?” Harry asked in response in between bites. </p><p>Unable and unwilling to stay at the shelter any longer, the pair had left early that morning, apparating away from London to find something to eat and reassess things. Hermione was right, they did need to change their strategy. Their wizarding and muggle money had all been spent on food, their sure bet shelter was gone, and they still weren’t any closer to finding or destroying the horcruxes. </p><p>“Yes, actually,” the witch said as she used her coffee mug as a hand warmer. “You and I have one thing in common that would most certainly be overlooked by the Death Eaters.”</p><p>“What’s that?” he asked, confused, trying to catch up to wherever her mind had already landed.</p><p>“Being muggles!” Hermione said in excitement, keeping her voice low so not to attract anyone’s attention. When it was clear that he still wasn’t quite understanding the significance of her words, she continued. </p><p>“Most wizards and witches don’t have a good understanding on how the muggle world works.  They have been separate for so long they are only vaguely aware of how non-magical people live. This is likely especially true of any pureblood supporters who already have a dislike of muggles.” </p><p>She said this part with a pointed look to Harry, allowing for him to translate what she was tactfully not saying: Voldemort and the Death Eaters weren’t keeping their eyes open for muggles. As the pieces started to click into place, Harry felt the beginnings of excitement blooming inside of him. Hermione might have found a true advantage over the enemy.</p><p>“When Ron was with us it was more dangerous and perhaps not wise to engage too closely with the muggle world. He doesn’t understand how their customs or societal norms work like we do. Now with him gone, we wouldn’t have to worry about that. You and I could move through muggle communities going virtually unnoticed.” </p><p>“They probably aren’t monitoring muggle transportation or at least not closely,” Harry added thoughtfully. “And they definitely aren’t tracking muggle money or muggle businesses.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Hermione nodded excitedly. “With proper muggle clothes and maybe a glamour spell or two, we would be undetectable.” </p><p>“But we couldn’t use trains or cars or even aeroplanes to look for the horcruxes, at least not exclusively,” he pointed out. “Apparating is still the best way for us to travel and that always runs the risk of someone following us to wherever we apparate too.” </p><p>“Yes, I did think of that,” she said while she absently chewed on her bottom lip, a habit she had carried over from childhood. Harry considered reaching out to run a gentle thumb across her mouth to stop the biting, but he didn’t. They had woken that morning still holding hands, limbs stiff from sleeping in the same position all night and he relished in the tenderness they had shared. However, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.</p><p>“And without a place to stay or money these ideas are moot,” she concluded and he could see a bit of her excitement fading. “I was trying to think of how we could get our hands on muggle currency, but aside from theft I couldn’t think of anything that made sense. My parents transferred most of my savings to Gringotts a few years back and I know your aunt and uncle didn’t put money aside for you.”</p><p>Harry could see the sun rising higher in the sky outside the cafe window and it made him anxious. The longer the day went without a plan, the higher the chances were that they would be scrambling again for somewhere to sleep that night. He also knew, glancing down to the empty plate between them, that without money or a strike of good luck they had just eaten their last meal for the foreseeable future. Ron’s words came back to him, <i>”We can’t do this alone, we need help”</i> and he shook his head to clear them away even though he knew they held some truth. </p><p>“What are you thinking?” </p><p>Hermione was watching him intently, her eyes trying to decipher whatever was happening inside his head. </p><p>“There is something that I’ve been thinking about for awhile now, but wasn’t sure about it,” he started carefully, trying to sort out the details he had been mulling over. Hermione was leaning further against the table towards Harry. There was something conspiratorial in her face that reminded him of their school days, planning wild adventures, knowingly breaking every rule.</p><p>“I’m still hesitant to contact anyone from the Order, there are just too many ways for our correspondence to be intercepted and meeting them somewhere is even more dangerous. But maybe there is someone we can trust, someone whose magic works off the grid.”</p><p>The radiant smile that broke out across her face let him know she had figured out his idea before he could finish.</p><p>“Oh, that’s brilliant Harry!” Hermione breathed, bouncing a little in her seat as her excitement was reignited. </p><p>“Dobby can apparte undetected from Hogwarts and his access to the castle means he can get supplies that we need. And I’m betting he knows how to exchange wizard money for muggle money,” Harry surmised, finding he too was leaning forward, like he was trapped by some unseen gravity pulling him into her. </p><p>“He could feed us information about what’s going on at the school and if there has been any word from the Order. I wonder if he would have access to the library, I’m sure there are books there that I missed that could help us.” </p><p>Her thoughts were coming fast and he could see the gears moving quickly behind her eyes as she considered all the new possibilities this plan could provide them.</p><p>“And you trust him, right Harry?” </p><p>“Completely,” he answered with a firm nod. “I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t. We don’t have to tell him more than the very basics to protect us as well as him. I know he would want to help with the war effort and I’m sure he would be thrilled to see you again.”</p><p>A faint blush crept across her cheeks at this and Harry couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” he chuckled. “Do you really think he would have forgotten all the clothes you knitted? The last time I saw him he was walking around with seven hats stacked on his head.” </p><p>“It wasn’t a bother, really. No creature should be forced to wear linen scraps.” </p><p>Hermione said this nonchalantly, but he could see how pleased she was to hear that Dobby had been so fond of her knitwear. Finishing the last bit of her coffee, her expression switched back to one of seriousness. </p><p>“But we still don’t have wizarding money,” she murmured ponderously. “We most certainly can’t go to Gringotts and withdraw from either of our vaults, that would be more disastrous than our visit to the Ministry.” </p><p>“Well, I actually know how we might be able to solve that problem,” Harry said. “Before Sirius died he told me that he had a cache of supplies hidden in the Shrieking Shack from when he had been hiding out there during our third year. He said that it was mostly nonperishable foods and old clothes, but that he also had an emergency fund with enough money to live off of comfortably for several months.”</p><p>“Why did you never mention this before?” Hermione questioned sternly with suspicion, sitting back in her chair with her arms crossed over chest. Harry immediately recognized her displeased posture and hurried to placate her.  </p><p>“It wasn’t something I had thought about a lot to be honest,” he said with a shrug. “He had told me this more in passing than anything else and when I did remember I figured it was useless to us as it’s in Hogsmeade. Going anywhere near Hogwarts right now doesn’t seem safe and I didn’t think it was worth mentioning if it wasn’t helpful.” </p><p>She was still looking at him with undisguised disappointment so he switched his approach. </p><p>“Alright, I get it, I should have said something. I’m sorry,” he tried apologetically. “But now you know and now we can make a plan.”</p><p>Seemingly satisfied for the moment, she nodded and uncrossed her arms. </p><p>“You’re right, we can’t go to Hogsmeade. It’s going to be under surveillance and we don’t know enough about the climate of things to decide if it would be worth the risk.”</p><p>“Which is another reason why Dobby would be helpful,” Harry continued quickly. “He can go to the Shrieking Shack, get the money, hopefully exchange it and bring it back to us.” </p><p>Hermione sat contemplatively, laying out the details in her head, likely running through each scenario and every outcome, that good and the bad. He knew that although this idea had potential dangers, their options were so limited, that it was the most viable plan. Hermione’s idea was a good one, living out of the wizarding world in muggle society could give them the benefit of safety and time. Even if they couldn’t remain in one place for too long, maybe they could move around with relative comfort. The thought of a soft bed and warm meal to have at the end of each day was nearly all the motivation he needed to enact their plan.</p><p>“Alright,” Hermione finally said decisively. Grabbing her bag, she stood up and motioned for Harry to do the same. Downing the remainder of his coffee, which had gone cold, he picked up his jacket from the back of his chair and slipped it on, following her out.</p><p>“We will go to a random location, somewhere we can hang out for a bit without drawing suspicion, and try to call for Dobby. If he does come and is willing to help then we will go forward with our plan. You understand, Harry, that once we contact him we can’t undo it? We might be putting ourselves in more danger, even if Dobby doesn’t intend for something bad to happen.”</p><p>Harry paused at Hermione’s words. He felt confident in Dobby, felt sure that the house elf would be able to help them, but the danger was still there. Looking at the girl he loved so much, the person who had given up everything to be there with him, he wondered if maybe they were being reckless. She had already done so much, followed him on this insane hunt, stayed when she could have left with Ron, always giving everything she had to be there for him. Was it fair of him to add potentially unnecessary risk to their situation? There was no way he could tell her that everything would be okay, that being in contact with Dobby wasn’t going to give them up somehow, it would be a lie.</p><p>“If you think this is too dangerous and that we can find another way, then I’m okay with that. I don’t want us to fuck this up because we didn’t try to think of something better.” Harry said finally.</p><p>Looping her arm with his and pulling him close in a way that reminded him of two lovers in an embrace, she looked up into his green eyes with a steady gaze.</p><p>“I’m with you. If you’re in, then I’m in.”</p><p>And because he couldn’t stop himself, Harry leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Hermione’s forehead. He lingered there, breathing her in and savoring her smooth skin under his lips. If he knew it was okay, if he thought she felt the same, he would have swept her up into his arms and kissed her properly, but that was just another unknown Harry was trying to work out.</p><p>Pulling away enough to look down at her face, Harry gave a nodd.</p><p>“I’m in.”</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p> Hermione was pacing, her restless feet making a path in the grass. Harry was perched atop a large boulder, watching the girl move anxiously in front of him. </p><p>“It’s nearly been an hour, shouldn’t he be back by now?” she asked for the second time in five minutes. Harry knew that at times Hermione’s anxiety could manifest itself in a frantic sort of way and he sympathized with her as she wrung her hands together tightly. </p><p>“He’ll be back shortly,” he tried calmly, keeping his voice steady and slow. “We asked him to do a lot and even for a house elf it will take a bit of time. We don’t know what kind of hoops he has to jump through to help us.”</p><p>“You’re right,” she agreed, but her tone said otherwise. </p><p>And Harry was right, they had asked Dobby to risk his own safety to help them. They needed to be patient.</p><p>When they had disapparated from the sidewalk outside the cafe, he hadn’t even asked where Hermione was taking them. The point of their destination was to create a randomness that couldn’t be replicated by them let alone anyone else.</p><p>Their shoes had landed with a cushioned thud in a meadow of knee high grass. No matter which direction Harry looked, the sea of swaying greenery went on endlessly, the breeze coaxing the meadow into sea foam waves. There were a handful of scattered boulders, like tiny islands springing from the ground, and with the only sound the deafening swoosh of the rolling landscape, Harry knew they were truly alone.</p><p>Opening his mouth to ask Hermione if he should go ahead and call Dobby, he turned to her, but stopped up short. Her once frizzy, unmanageable mane had long since been tamed and instead had become loose, natural waves that framed her delicate face. She was reaching up to sweep up her loose strands into a low bun, but he didn’t want her to. The way the wind was running through her hair, lifting it off her shoulders, giving the illusion that she might be floating, it was enchanting. The bright sun wasn’t warm, but it hit against her pale skin in such a way that made her appear glowing, luminous in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. It was obvious that their months on the run had thinned Hermione out, made her already slim frame far too lean, but there was nothing about her that he didn’t love.</p><p>“Don’t,” he said quietly.</p><p>“Don’t what?” </p><p>Hermione had stopped, arms in mid air, as she was reaching for the hair elastic she kept on her wrist.</p><p>“You look good with your hair down,” Harry answered, feeling his cheeks redden at his admission, but he didn’t look away from her.</p><p>“Oh,” she said simply, surprised, dropping her arms back to her sides. There was a tiny smile tugging at her lips and he knew that his compliment had gone over well. </p><p>“Anyway,” she said, checking unnecessarily to see if they really were isolated. “We should get on with it.”</p><p>“Right,” he said, clearing his throat.</p><p>“Let’s go over it one last time.”</p><p>“I’m going to call Dobby. When he comes we are going to tell him about the money at the Shrieking Shack and also give him a list of the things we need. Do you have parchment so we can write that?”</p><p>“Yes!” Hermione said, pulling her bag from her side. Opening it up, she stuck the tip of her wand at the opening and said <i>”Accio parchment and quill”</i>.</p><p>A scroll of blank parchment and a self-inking quill sprung from the bag and she snatched it from the air. Walking over to the nearest boulder, she leaned over and began scribbling down different items. </p><p>“I’m putting down a few food items, two books I’ve been wishing I had, and a few of Madam Pomfrey’s healing potions - I hope he doesn’t mind breaking into her supplies,” Hermione rushed out, adding that last thought with slight trepidation. “Is there anything else aside from the money you can think of?” </p><p>Harry squinted up into the sky trying to think carefully. He didn’t know when or if they would contact Dobby again and he didn’t want anything to slip through the cracks. </p><p>“Maybe a Daily Prophet? It might not have as much information as we’d like, but at least it will have something,” he suggested, looking back at Hermione who was nodding in agreement and had already stooped back over to jot it down on the list.</p><p>“Alright, I think that will do it. Anything else we need we can make do and the muggle money will help significantly with any essentials.”</p><p>It was at that point that they both stood up, gave one final look to each other and determined it was time. </p><p>Feeling awkward and uncertain, Harry cleared his throat loudly and did his best to speak clearly, having a recovered memory of his first time using the floo at the Burrow.</p><p>“Dobby?” </p><p>He hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question, but that didn’t seem to matter because a moment later there was a pop and the house elf appeared before them. </p><p>“Oh Harry Potter, Dobby is so pleased to see you!” </p><p>The elf ran up to the wizard with his wide green eyes and took Harry’s hand and gripped it tightly. </p><p>“Hello, Dobby,” Harry said with a smile, giving the elf’s hand a little squeeze.</p><p>“And Miss Hermione,” Dobby said reverently, turning his gaze to the witch. “It’s so nice to meet again.”</p><p>Hermione smiled widely at the small creature and Harry knew it was in part because Dobby was wearing a pair of socks that she had knitted. </p><p>“Dobby, Hermione and I need your help,” Harry said, making the elf’s head turn to him, his large ears twitching in excitement. </p><p>“Of course! Dobby will always help Harry Potter.” </p><p>Reaching out to Hermione for the list, the wizard crouched down to be at eye level with Dobby. This gesture clearly stunned the elf and his green eyes began to swim with awed tears.</p><p>“Harry Potter has always been so good to Dobby, treating him as an equal. Harry Potter is so kind.” </p><p>“Dobby,” Harry said seriously, “we are equals.” </p><p>He felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder give a pleased squeeze and he knew that she appreciated his kindness to the house elf. </p><p>“Now, Dobby, this is very important.” Harry continued gravely, looking steadily into Dobby’s eyes. “Hermione and I cannot explain anything to you, but we need you to bring us a few things from Hogwarts.” </p><p>“Dobby will do what he can for Harry Potter and his friend.” </p><p>“Okay, this is a short list of things, some food, a Daily Prophet, some potions and books for Hermione.”</p><p>“Yes,” Hermione interrupted urgently. “There are only two books, <i>Detecting Dark Magic</i> and <i>Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Metals</i>. These are in the school’s library, do you think you can get them for me?”</p><p>“Yes, Dobby’s friend Winky can help him sneak them out,” the elf answered seriously.</p><p>“Oh, thank you!” Hermione said kindly.</p><p>“The last thing we need is the most crucial,” Harry explained more slowly, making sure the elf didn’t miss anything he said. “There is a stash of money in the Shrieking Shack, I imagine hidden somewhere in the walls or under the floorboards. We need you to find this money, exchange it for muggle currency, and bring it back to us. Without the money, we won’t be able to continue our mission.”</p><p>Dobby was still nodding quickly, eyes impossibly wider as he absorbed Harry’s words. </p><p>“Dobby has heard that Harry Potter and Miss Hermione have been hiding out, preparing to fight the Dark Lord. Dobby and all the house elves support Harry Potter. Dobby will always help Harry Potter and his friends.” </p><p>The house elf’s words were unwaveringly loving and Harry found himself strangely moved, his throat growing tight. Only able to give a nod, he stood back up and furiously tried to blink away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. Sometimes it felt like it was just he and Hermione left, that everyone had forgotten them, that no one missed them anymore - that no one loved them anymore. It filled Harry with warmth to be reminded that, just as Dumbledore had once said, help will always be given at Hogwarts for those who ask for it.</p><p>“We will wait right here for you,” Hermione said to Dobby. “We can’t stress how important it is that you tell no one you’ve seen us or where we are. If Snape or anyone else found us, we would be in danger.”</p><p>“Dobby understands Miss Hermione,” the elf said gravely, leaving no doubt that he was taking his commission with the utmost seriousness.</p><p>Taking a few steps backward, Dobby looked at the pair with a smile, list in hand, and with the snap of his fingers he disappeared. </p><p>Now, as they were approaching the one hour mark, the sun was beginning to drop lower in the sky. Despite Hermione’s worry, Harry felt a calm he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew that Dobby was reliable, knew that the house elf had put himself at risk on more than one occasion to help Harry, and he had always come through for the wizard. Even though circumstances were more dire and the threat of death was far greater than that of a master’s punishment, Harry had no reason to believe Dobby wouldn’t be successful.</p><p>“He’s not coming back! He’s been caught, I just kno --” </p><p>Hermione was cut off mid sentence by the unmistakable pop of apparation. </p><p>Dobby appeared before them, his balance shaky as he teetered towards them. His knobby knees trembled under the weight of the satchel he carried on his back. Rushing to keep the house elf from falling, the witch took the bag from him and watched as he visibly sagged with relief.</p><p>“Harry Potter did not say there would be so many galleons,” Dobby smiled weakly up to Harry, though it was evident that he was pleased with himself for completing the mission. </p><p>“You did wonderfully, Dobby!” Hermione exclaimed as she opened the satchel to peer inside. </p><p>“Thank you,” Harry said to the elf, taking the small boney hands in his. “When the war is over I promise I will make it up to you.” </p><p>“Harry Potter is so generous, Dobby does not need such kindness,” the elf said assuredly. “It makes Dobby so happy to help Harry Potter and Miss Hermione.”</p><p>The smile that Harry gave Dobby was that of deep and sincere affection. How strange it was that the house elf had been a staple in his life for so long, always hovering in the background, but nonetheless there for him whenever he needed help. </p><p>Hermione was taking the items out of the satchel, inspecting them for a moment, before placing them in her own purse. However, when she pulled three books from the bag, she turned to Dobby with a slight frown.</p><p>“You brought me an extra book, Dobby.” </p><p>“Yes, Winky came back with three because she wasn’t sure if Miss Hermione wanted Volume One or Volume Two of <i>Detecting Dark Magic</i>. Dobby didn’t want to guess wrong so he brought both,” he explained.</p><p>“I hadn’t known there was a second volume,” Hermione said curiously as she looked at the third book before placing it in her purse with the others. “Well, thank you for bringing both, Dobby.” </p><p>“Of course, Miss Hermione.” </p><p>The house elf began stepping backward, much like he had the first time he disapparated, but Harry reached out to stop him.</p><p>“Dobby, one last thing. Can you tell Remus Lupin that Hermione and I are okay?”</p><p>From the corner of his eye he could see Hermione’s surprised expression and he himself was surprised the request had come out of his mouth. They hadn’t discussed Dobby relaying a message to anyone, but something in Harry told him that it was the right thing to do.</p><p>“Dobby will tell Professor Lupin that Harry Potter and Miss Hermione are safe on their journey.” </p><p>With one last smile, Dobby lifted his hand, snapped his fingers, and he was gone.  </p><p>When Hermione took Harry’s hand, preparing for them to depart, the sun was disappearing below the horizon and he felt the chill of the night shiver down his spine. He wondered if Hermione was also chilled so he pulled her a little closer to his side, giving her a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>The place where Dobby had just been was just another spot in an endless meadow in a random location that meant nothing. Once they left, there would be nothing there to indicate that they had been there, no landmark or sign that anyone had ever been there at all. Harry wasn’t sure why this thought made him so sad. They had been to dozens of places over the last three months, many he didn’t even know the names of, this one was no different. It was more nondescript than all the others, a vast open expanse of land that was empty and devoid of human life.</p><p>“I know,” Hermione said to him quietly, pulling him out of his head. “I miss home too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Untouchable like a distant diamond sky,<br/>I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why<br/>I'm caught up in you,<br/>I'm caught up in you</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Untouchable, burning brighter than the sun</i><br/>And when you're close I feel like coming undone”</p><p> </p><p><i>Untouchable</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As it would turn out, Sirius had significantly downplayed the size and worth of his emergency fund. </p><p>When Harry and Hermione were able to finally take a better look at the money Dobby had brought them, they were shocked to discover just how much Sirius had left behind.</p><p>“Did you know that Sirius was keeping this much money at the Shrieking Shack?” Hermione had asked incredulously as she fingered through the stack of £50 notes in her hand.</p><p>“No, not at all,” Harry responded as he looked at all the stacks of money in front of them. It was the most muggle money either of them had ever seen in person and with a quick count Hermione estimated that they were looking at about £100,000. </p><p>“This is more than enough for what we need,” she said, placing the cash back into her purse. They were secluded on a park bench with no passerbys insight, but common sense told them it wouldn’t be wise to display their riches. </p><p>Deciding to voice this concern, Harry questioned how they would keep their funds safe.</p><p>“We can’t go walking around London or anywhere else with our pockets stuffed with notes. We’ll get mugged.”</p><p>“Yes, you’re right.” Hermione said thoughtfully. “There are actually a few things we will need to work out before reentering the muggle world.”</p><p>“Like what?” Harry asked, leaning back against the bench. It was nearly dark and they needed to find a place to stay. It set his teeth on edge to be out at night no matter where they were. They couldn’t be sure who might be watching. </p><p>Clearly having the same thought, Hermione stood up and secured her purse inside her jacket before pulling the zipper up to her chin. </p><p>“First things first, we need to get a room for the night,” she said, jerking her head towards Kensington Gardens. “There’s a hotel back this way and they probably have a vacancy.”</p><p>“Alright,” he agreed, the thought of standing in a shower under a hot stream of water making him jump up to his feet faster.</p><p>“But we can’t walk in there like this, just two teenagers, they’d be suspicious. I need to age us a bit.”</p><p>And before Harry could so much as nod, Hermione had conjured a small vial from what seemed to be thin air, unstoppered it, and took a large swig before handing it to him. </p><p>Taking it from her hand, he examined the green liquid before looking back to Hermione. As he watched, five years passed quickly over her face, and he felt a small catch in his breath. She was beautiful at 18 and impossibly more so at 23. The changes were subtle, like a flower caught half bloomed. There was a new maturity about her face, something unspecific that gave her a worldliness she couldn’t yet possess. </p><p>Knowing he was staring, Harry swallowed the last of the ageing potion and handed the empty flask back to Hermione. After a few moments, she let out a laugh. </p><p>“What?!” Harry asked alarmed, wondering what horrible reaction he must have had to the potion. </p><p>“Nothing, silly,” she smiled, reaching out her hand to touch the full beard that had sprouted on his face unbeknownst to Harry. “You look handsome.”</p><p>The laugh in her voice and the way her thin fingers ran through the long whiskers on his cheek made his heart skip a beat. He tilted his head just enough to lean into her touch. Hermione flattened her palm so he could rest his face there, absorbing the heat radiating from her and Harry was certain that there had never been a sweeter moment in his life. </p><p>And when she pulled away, looping their arms together as they began to walk to the hotel, he was vaguely aware of the telltale tingle of magic lingering where her hand had just been. </p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>Staying the night with Hermione at the hotel was a bizarre experience for Harry. </p><p>Aside from the fact that Harry had never stayed in a muggle hotel, it had been jarring when they walked to the concierge desk and Hermione had confidently said to the attendant, “My husband and I would like a room for the night.”</p><p>Trying not to look stunned by this, Harry had stood next to his <i>wife</i> while she produced a muggle ID with a small picture of herself on it. He wasn’t sure when she had managed to transfigure the license, but he was less impressed by her magic and more focused on how the man behind the desk thought he was her <i>husband</i>.</p><p>Once they had collected their room key and Hermione had gotten the name of a nearby realtor, they headed to their room on the second floor. They had requested the least expensive room of the available options and when Harry had pushed the door open his heart leapt into his throat at the sight of the double bed sitting in the middle of the room. He wondered if he would be having the same nervous reaction if he wasn’t still reeling over his fictional marriage. It was absurd for him to be lingering on such a detail, they had lied and pretended hundreds of times before, but somehow this felt different. However, his anxious excitement was tampered by Hermione’s insistence to try and solve all their problems that night. </p><p>After she had put proper wards on the room and a very powerful silencing charm, they had ordered room service and got right down to business. </p><p>They were both exhausted and the bed was almost unbearably inviting, but having their next movements mapped out was the only thing that would get them to sleep that night.</p><p>“Tomorrow we will find a flat, something that comes fully furnished and move-in ready. Once we have our homebase secured, everything else will get easier.”</p><p>Hermione was explaining this to Harry as she nibbled on a subpar order of fish and chips. The menu had been limited so they had settled on the only option that wasn’t a cold cut sandwich. But they were grateful they were eating anything at all. </p><p>“Won’t we need paperwork? I thought they ran background checks on people interested in renting,” Harry asked as he finished off the last of his chips. He had ordered a soda with his meal, and the sweetness of the lemon-lime carbonation on his tongue brought him back to the long summer days he had spent at Ms. Figg’s house on Privet Drive. </p><p>“Yes, well, I think we will just have to use a memory charm to circumvent that,” she answered, always seven steps ahead of Harry. “We will have to age ourselves again and present ourselves as newlyweds. Starting from tonight we need to be crafting a life that is believable. If a Death Eater should question any of our muggle neighbors there needs to be no trace of who we actually are in their minds.”</p><p><i>Newlyweds</i>.</p><p>“Alright,” Harry agreed nervously, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.</p><p>“It won’t be so bad being my husband, Harry. I will be an excellent wife.”</p><p>Her voice was deadpan, so serious that it took his green eyes darting to hers to realize she was teasing him.</p><p>“Come off it,” he smiled, reaching across to nudge her shoulder playfully.</p><p>“Hermione Jean Potter,” she said dreamily, the smirk on her face much more telling than the lithe of her voice. “Turns out Rita Skeeter wasn’t so far off after-all, hmm?” </p><p>Rolling his eyes with faux disdain, he puffed out his chest in an exaggerated kind of way.</p><p>“You’d be so lucky,” he sniffed hautly. “I’m the chosen one, remember?”</p><p>The laughter that spilled from Hermione was warm and full, filling Harry with such joy that he too began laughing just as hard. It had been so long since they had anything to truly laugh at, something that acted as water to the seeds of normalcy that had been buried deep inside of them. And in that moment, Harry swore that if they both made it through the war alive he would make sure Hermione always had something in her life to laugh at.</p><p>As their laughter tapered off, the room settling into comfortable silence, Hermione’s bright eyes fixed on him with undisguised affection.</p><p>“It’s true,” she smiled, her voice much quieter than it had been before. “You are the one.”</p><p>It was happening, he was sure of it, they were going to kiss. The way she was looking at him, the tenderness of her words, and the cozy, safe cocoon of the hotel room were all coming together to create an electricity that was buzzing around them.</p><p>“Hermione...” Harry whispered, knowing that all she had to do was look into eyes to see all the unsaid things he was laying bare to her.<br/>
But she pressed her hand against his chest, keeping him at arm's length.  </p><p>“We shouldn’t do that,” she said quietly, eyes cast down, creating a separation that Harry couldn’t see but felt. “That would make us weak, fog our thinking, we can’t afford that.”</p><p>He pulled away from her and quickly stood up, turning his back to the bed. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and his chest was even tighter with disappointment. He wanted to clear his throat, to dislodge the lump that had formed there, but he didn’t want her to hear how hurt he was.</p><p>“Harry, look at me.” Hermione said with concern, a note of desperation hitting in her voice. “Come on, look at me.” </p><p>He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to see the pity that was surely written across her face. And yet he couldn’t deny her.</p><p>Turning back to where she sat on the bed, he could see how upset she was, her hands were clenched into fists on the duvet and the skin around her eyes was pink and blotchy, indicating she was holding back tears. </p><p>“Please don’t say something stupid about being friends,” Harry said miserably. “We both know that nothing is going to change our friendship. You’re my best friend.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to say that,” she responded quickly, her gaze steady on his, and he knew she was sincere. “What I was going to say is not now. When we finish the job, maybe we could try then, but not now. There is a chance that what we are feeling for each other is rooted in trauma. It’s not an uncommon occurrence between people who go through terror and fear. Everything we have gone through, as children and now on our search for the horcruxes, is enough to make anyone have erratic emotions. I just want to be sure before we do something we can’t take back.”</p><p>What she was saying was not unreasonable, completely logical and clearly thought out, but Harry knew it was wrong. The connection they shared, that had been developing over the course of their six year friendship, was not something borne of trauma or fear. No, he knew without a doubt that what he felt for Hermione was based on profound respect, gratitude, and an authentic love that could not come from anywhere but the bond they shared. </p><p>But he took pause. Ultimately it would be her who would decide the fate of their relationship and therefore it was essential for her to discover on her own that what was happening between them was real and independent of the last several months of hardship. And it was also her, he acknowledged silently to himself, who would decide if she was interested and willing to step outside of the bounds of friendship and into something much deeper. </p><p>“Okay, that makes sense,” he finally said, nodding his head in assent. He loved her and he was willing to wait. Even if he didn’t survive the war, at least he knew that he wouldn’t go down without a fight - fighting for the light and fighting for Hermione.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she said, hands still planted on the bed, anxiety worrying her lip.</p><p>“Stop that,” he said sharply, shaking his head. “Neither of us need to apologize for anything.”</p><p>He wanted his words to mean something to her because they rang true to him. They couldn’t help the situation they were in and he knew that if they weren’t fighting a war things would likely be different. Neither of them were at fault for that.</p><p>“Alright,” she said, standing, the confidence he was accustomed to hearing returning to her voice. Walking over to him, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, trapping him in a tight hug. </p><p>She was warm and soft and Harry snaked his arms behind her back, allowing for them to stand in the embrace, each recalibrating back to the time before everything had almost changed. When she did finally pull away, he felt that things had righted themselves again and there would be no lasting awkwardness from the vulnerability they had shared. He could even see the familiar playful glint in her eyes that he loved so much.</p><p>“You can’t back out now,” she smiled mischievously. “We are married after all.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Potter.” Harry tossed back, not missing a beat. </p><p>Maybe there wouldn’t be residual awkwardness between them. And maybe it was true that they were still the same best friends they had been prior to the almost-kiss. But none of that mattered to Harry because for him things had changed.<br/>
Now he knew for certain; not now but maybe someday.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January<br/>This is our place, we make the rules<br/>And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear<br/>Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Can I go where you go?<br/>Can we always be this close forever and ever?<br/>And ah, take me out and take me home<br/>You're my, my, my, my<br/>Lover"</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p><i>Lover</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so surprised and grateful for the wonderful feedback I've been receiving! Knowing that folks like you enjoy my story makes it that much more rewarding to write. Please continue to give kudos and leave comments - it warms my little heart.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>London was unusually cold that November, but Harry found that the bite of the fall wind couldn’t cut through the unusual warmth that had begun to accompany him always. </p>
<p>Despite it being the most stressful and frightening time of his life, it was also the most <i>normal</i> time of his life. When he had grown up as a muggle, he had been abused and mistreated by his caretakers, never able to fully live in the muggle world as a normal kid. By the time he had joined the wizarding world he had been desperate for something - <i>anything</i> - that would put an end to his misery in the cupboard under the stairs. However, any hope he had of being a normal wizard like anyone else, was dashed when he was met with suffocating attention and fame. This was quickly followed by discovering that he had to fight for his life on a regular basis.</p>
<p>But living in a tiny flat in London with Hermione, on the run from Death Eaters, and diligently searching for horcruxes, he had found a sliver of normalcy. </p>
<p>It hadn’t been difficult to find a flat that met their needs, the paperwork and their move-in happening uncommonly fast, the ease to which everything flowed making Harry question silently if Hermione had slipped Felix Felicis into his morning coffee. After signing the lease, Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter moved into a one bedroom flat in an ancient, unremarkable building situated off a busy road, invisible to most even without the use of magic. It was small and cramped, but they loved it.</p>
<p>“You know,” Hermione said their first night while they laid on the hardwood floor, just two pillows and a blanket between them. “If these were different times I would have loved to move into a place like this after leaving Hogwarts.”</p>
<p>Harry had hummed in agreement, but the truth was that he had never thought much of what “different times” would look like. Every year seemed like it was touch-and-go about whether or not he would make it out alive, so he had trained his mind not to think <i>too</i> far into the future as it seemed likely to end in disappointment - or just end entirely. There were the vague, distant kind of thoughts about going into the Auror program should Voldemort be defeated, but little else had managed to materialize in his mind. There of course was the hope of a future with Hermione, but what that future could hold was a mystery to him. The fact of the matter was that the future always looked quite bleak for Harry.</p>
<p>But overtime, quite slowly and yet all at once, Harry began to see what life could be like. From the time he was a child he had always dreamed of having a family, parents and siblings, people who could surround him with love and affection. What he hadn’t considered, as most children don’t, was that he would grow to want independence. Granted, this independence included Hermione, but for the two teenagers it seemed like a different world had opened up to them. And if Harry was being honest with himself, Hermione being with him only made him feel older, like he was changing, learning what it was like to be a part of the world outside the confines of Hogwarts and the Dursley’s.</p>
<p>The easy glide of their relationship, the unexpected way the pair slipped into domesticity would have been shocking to most outsiders, but even so for them. There had been little conversation about the logistics of how things would work, somehow they had assumed their individual roles and they complimented the other. There was no discussion about the sleeping arrangement, about how the one bedroom would be used as a workplace for potions and other magical workings and the one bed situated off the living room space would be where they slept together each night. It hadn’t been awkward or strange, just the natural flow of things.</p>
<p>And it was so much more than that too. As they dug into their new life, holding hands as they walked the London streets, a happy couple so clearly in love to all who saw them, everything else fell into place. They spent their days much the same as they had during their time in the tent, researching and planning, but the permanency of their home created a necessity for other things that they wouldn’t have thought of before. </p>
<p>Every morning Harry got up before Hermione, doing his best to be quiet as he worked in the kitchen across the room to brew coffee and put toast with jam on a plate for her when she would wake. They sat side-by-side throughout the day, reading and writing down notes, talking about Voldemort and the horcruxes, but also about who would go to the shops for food and what movie they would watch on the telly in the evening. Just as Harry had always thought of Hermione as his partner in life, it was clear it was dawning on her that he too was hers. Something about that fact, unspoken between them but evident in every decision they made, continued to tighten the woven strings that pulled them so closely together. </p>
<p>But these changes in their life also brought a new tension that simmered between them. What was once the urge to touch, kiss, and hold, had been fanned from a spark to a blaze that Harry at times struggled to put out. And it would flare up inside of him in times that he wouldn’t expect, something he considered might be a sign of his love for her maturing from a school age fascination to something rooted in reality.</p>
<p>When they sat on their second-hand sofa at night, the blue glow of the telly casting shadows over their faces while they watched yet another James Bond movie, Hermione would inevitably stretch out her legs, placing her small feet against the side of Harry’s thigh, unknowingly tempting his restless hands and eager heart. As each day would come to a close, each of them burrowing under their shared blankets, the heat radiating from her sleeping body pulled him in as if it was thawing him out, melting away his resolve and his attempts to be just a friend to the witch. </p>
<p>He tried to remain adrift in the uncertainty of their relationship, to keep hold of the buoy that kept his head above the waves of desire and need that crashed against him, but seeing the safety of her shore almost made the swim worth the risk. </p>
<p>It hadn’t occurred to Harry that he could fall more in love with Hermione, but he hadn’t anticipated what would happen if he fell asleep each night knowing the next time he opened his eyes he would see her laying next to him. </p>
<p>Harry hadn’t anticipated normal. </p>
<p>But with such proximity came vulnerability.</p>
<p>There were times when Harry would return to their flat to find Hermione locked in the bathroom, the muffled sound of sobs reaching his ears before she realized he was home and would put up a silencing charm. He would walk slowly to the door, raise his fist to knock, but ultimately flatten his palm against the solid wood that separated them and try with every fiber of his being to push his magic through the cracks to reach her. </p>
<p>He knew things were hard for her, knew that sometimes the sacrifices she had made seemed far too great for the price she was paying. Although Ron’s words had been cruel, he was right that Harry couldn’t understand what it was like to worry about what would happen to his family. The Weasley’s were of course a large clan to consider, but he sometimes felt that everyone looked over the potential threat that lingered over the Granger’s. </p>
<p>“I erased their memories,” she whimpered one night, a wet spot on the pillow where her tears had collected visible. “They won’t ever remember me. I don’t exist anymore.”</p>
<p>The flat was dark and they were huddled under the covers in bed, hands joined beneath the blanket. Hermione had woken up crying and Harry had been pulled from sleep by the shake of her sobs. He had taken her hand, pulled her close so they were forehead-to-forehead and listened to her cry and talk about her mum and dad and her childhood and all the things she missed about them.</p>
<p>“You do exist, Hermione. You’re right here, I’m holding your hand, I feel you.” Harry had whispered earnestly to her. </p>
<p>Her watery brown eyes had lifted to his and he could just make out the wobble of her chin and the dampness on her cheeks.</p>
<p>“You’re here, we’re right here. I won’t let you disappear.”</p>
<p>Sometimes it was him who was the one being exposed, caught in a candid moment, sliced open and observed. </p>
<p>“Hey, we’re going to figure this out,” Hermione would sometimes say, reaching across their work desk to him, placing a delicate hand under his chin to force his eyes up. </p>
<p>He would look at her and his face would be pale and eyes wide with panic. It wasn’t often, but sometimes the weight of their responsibility would start pressing down harder and his shoulders would sag, body unable to hold itself up under the pressure of everything they had to do - everyone they had to save.</p>
<p>“It’s you and me, you’re not alone. We can do this together.”</p>
<p>And he believed her, but giving up was easy and Harry wanted easy for once.</p>
<p>But the hardest conversation they had, cloaked in the darkness of the night, was one that neither of them wanted to have.</p>
<p>“Do you ever think about dying?”</p>
<p>Hermione had asked this so quietly Harry almost missed the question.</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” he answered easily. “Everyday.”</p>
<p>She had been quiet for a long time after that and he thought she might have fallen asleep until she rolled onto her side so she was facing him.<br/>
Doing the same, he peered at her through the dark, trying to make out all her features.</p>
<p>“Are you scared to die?”</p>
<p>“No, not really,” he admitted and it was the truth. “I am more afraid, or maybe sad, of what I won’t be able to do if I die.”</p>
<p>He wanted to clarify exactly what that meant, but couldn’t find the right words so instead added, “What I won’t be able to have.”</p>
<p>They both knew what he meant and they both said nothing.</p>
<p>“I’m not really afraid either,” she agreed. “Although I do hope it will be painless.”</p>
<p>Harry hummed in agreement, silently acknowledging that this same thought had crossed his mind many times.</p>
<p>“I am more afraid I won’t be able to actually kill anyone.”</p>
<p>Her words surprised him and he felt himself shift a little closer to her.</p>
<p>“Why do you say that?”</p>
<p>“Well, you need intent to cast the killing curse, but you also need be truly willing, to posses enough hate or malice in your heart to cast someone down,” she explained, her fingers absently picking the loose threads along the hem of the blanket. Their hands were inching together, playing out the false dance of hesitation they had started each night, despite knowing that sooner or later they’d be holding onto each other until they each were asleep. </p>
<p>“I don’t actually want to kill anyone so I worry I won’t be able to when the time comes.” </p>
<p>Harry rolled over her words in his head for a moment, before giving up on the pretense and lacing their fingers together. </p>
<p>“You are clever and your heart is good,” he started warmly. “You know practically every spell in the world. If you are faced with a threat, I know you will be able to be quick enough to think of something that may not kill, but might do enough damage to stop the attack. No one says you <i>have</i> to kill anyone, Hermione.” </p>
<p>“Thank you, Harry, but we both know that you’re being optimistic. We are going to be in a life or death situation, maybe more than once, where the only way for survival is through accurately performing that spell. I just don’t know if I can.”</p>
<p>Raising their joined hands to his lips, Harry pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, never breaking their steady gaze.</p>
<p>“When the things and people you love most in the world are in danger, you will find that there is no magic you cannot perform to save them. I trust you with my life, you know that. Everyday could be the day we might have to fight for our lives. There is no one else I would want fighting next to me. I know you will protect us.” </p>
<p>His words hung between them, the depth to their meaning sweeping over each of them. There was nothing new about what he was saying, but each day they spent together in their hidden sanctuary was another day that it grew harder to act like everything hadn’t changed.</p>
<p>“I love you, Hermione.”</p>
<p>'I love you too, Harry." </p>
<p>And he knew, when Hermione whispered this to him, she was pretending it meant nothing more than friendship. </p>
<p>But her argument for waiting to be together until after the war, to hold out until they could be sure what they had was real, was falling apart because she hadn’t anticipated what living day-to-day with Harry would be like.</p>
<p>Hermione hadn’t anticipated normal.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven - An Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"One night he wakes<br/>Strange look on his face<br/>Pauses, then says<br/>You're my best friend<br/>And you knew what it was<br/>He is in love</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>You can hear it in the silence, silence, you<br/>You can feel it on the way home, way home, you<br/>You can see it with the lights out, lights out<br/>You are in love, true love"</i></p><p> </p><p><i>You Are In Love</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As a child, Hermione Granger was relentlessly bullied. During her time in primary school she found that the combination of her frizzy hair, unfortunate teeth, and brainiac mind meant she was the ideal target for her classmates to tease and ridicule. No matter how hard she begged and pleaded with her parents, they would not allow her to be homeschooled. </p><p>“We’ve got full time jobs, Hermione,” her dad had said. “And it would be a waste of your intelligence to take you out of school.” </p><p>So, when her Hogwarts letter arrived, her elation was unparalleled. For weeks, sparks would randomly shoot from her fingertips, flowers started popping up from the cracks in the walls, and her parents implored her to “Stop making the water from the tap taste like strawberry-kiwi lollies!” But no amount of exasperation from her parents could make Hermione less excited to be leaving muggle school and, in her mind, starting over in the wizarding world. </p><p>The weeks leading up to September 1st were a time of great preparation for Hermione. She read every school book on the required reading list and many that she had picked up from Diagon Alley for additional “light reading”. When she bought her wand from Ollivanders it became an extension of her arm, always in her hand and constantly twirling through the air as she practiced different spell movements. There was no way of saying for sure how many times she had packed and repacked her school trunk, trying as many different organization methods she could in the hopes of finding the optimal way to bring all her belongings with her. </p><p>And she spent a lot of time in front of the mirror, looking back at herself, biting her lip as she thought of all the hurtful things her former peers had taunted her with. She didn’t want to go to Hogwarts and be the butt of the joke anymore, the girl who had no friends because she was the teacher’s pet. Was it really so bad to want to excel in school, to be a hard worker? On top of that, there was her appearance. She had never been vain, even when she was teased. Her focus was on learning and being a good person, it shouldn’t matter what she looked like on the outside. But she would have been lying to herself if she said she didn’t mind being known as a gopher or the girl who got struck by lightning. </p><p>However, she surmised, was wearing braces to a magical school just a setup for ridicule by young wizards and witches who didn’t understand muggle dentistry and therefore would find her repulsive? Hermione knew that there were spells for adjusting one’s appearance, something she was going to look into right away, but she also knew that it could be a long while before she was confident in her skill to perform them on herself. Ultimately, she decided that she would forgo the braces and hope that British dental stereotypes applied to wizards as well as muggles. </p><p>But she was wrong.</p><p>Hermione’s first year at Hogwarts was a whirlwind, but for all the good there was that much more bad. The swell of pride that came with the praise from her professors was always deflated by the sniggers and whispered comments of the other students. Every high mark on her potions assignments were negated by the senseless berating from Professor Snape during each lesson. The endless knowledge offered to her by the library was less appealing knowing that she was likely to be reading alone. And each of her attempts to protect the hard earned house points by thwarting foolish afterhours excursions was met with the branding of prude, snobbish, boring, and bossy. </p><p>There was also the conundrum of Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. </p><p>She had learned about Harry from her readings that summer, but meeting him in person was entirely different. She wouldn’t say that she was a fan per se. Impressed? Sure. Envious of such natural magical abilities? Most certainly. But a fan? Not quite. It was instead more of an appreciation for the chance to be attending Hogwarts at the same time as The Boy Who Lived and being given the opportunity to watch his skills develop even more. It also didn’t hurt that she found his dark unruly hair, piercing green eyes, and the near constant slip of his glasses down the bridge of his nose to be altogether quite cute.</p><p>This immediate fondness was further instigated by Harry’s kindness. He was gentle and surprisingly empathetic, something that made the young girl wonder if he knew what it felt like to be ostracized and mistreated. When everyone else seemed to be unreasonably uninterested in her, he was always gracious. Even when she was bossy, something that was more a knee-jerk reaction borne from anxiety rather than an actual state of being, Harry only grumbled a little, never holding it against her.</p><p>So how was it possible that Harry’s best friend was Ron Weasley? This was the question that Hermione spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about in the first part of that year. The two boys had little to nothing in common and she found it even more bewildering that Harry seemed to take Ron’s callous attitude with such ease. And even after the pair had saved her from the mountain troll on Halloween, Hermione still wasn’t entirely onboard with the strange bond forming between the trio. </p><p>And that hesitancy she felt was the lens from which she viewed her friendship with Ron for several years. Once the three of them had grown close enough to call one another true friends, her attraction to Harry had only increased and her annoyance to Ron had hardly decreased at all. She liked spending time with them, grateful she had found two people who seemed to have accepted her and even enjoyed being around her, but there were downsides as well. Hermione often felt that the only reason Ron tolerated her was to ensure that he would pass his classes and even Harry at times (although more when he was influenced by the redhead) would rely on their friendship to get his essays finished and his assignments perfected. She liked tutoring, helping others learn, but she didn’t like feeling like a doormat. </p><p>But when she was alone with Harry it wasn’t like that. They could talk about most anything, each able to understand the other’s stories about muggle life and commiserate about the things they found odd or enchanting about the wizarding world. The pair could work together, Harry doing most of his own work, and there wasn’t pressure to force conversation. It was all so easy and Hermione’s crush on Harry only seemed to intensify. And overtime it seemed like maybe, possibly, he liked her too. But young Hermione was naive and insecure and so unsure of herself that she could never bring herself to even try to show him just how interested she was. </p><p>Because how could Harry Potter, the savior of the magical world, unintentional defeater of Voldemort, and the most revered wizarding celebrity be interested in plain, bossy, bushy haired Hermione Granger? She might be his best friend, but how could he possibly want her when he could have anyone? There was little she could do to change her perspective and even when she thought maybe one of their many shared harrowing experiences might open his eyes to her, there was still so little confidence she likely wouldn’t have trusted him if he had pursued her. </p><p>And when you think so little of yourself, you begin to think that any attention you receive is good attention, even when it's bad - and Ron Weasley was bad. She just couldn’t help herself though and suddenly the possibility of <i>something</i> was more appealing than nothing at all. It was a toxic loop, a cycle that she couldn’t seem to break, even when she realized how miserable she was. If she tried to end the strange back and forth between her and Ron, she was sure to be met with a cold shoulder she couldn’t break through and the unspoken threat that Ron and Harry were a packaged deal - leaving Ron most certainly meant losing Harry. </p><p>It wasn’t until their fourth year that Hermione began to realize that she was worth far more than what Ron was paying, that maybe she did have value beyond homework and cleverness. The thought that maybe she had underestimated herself came when Victor Krum, Quidditch extraordinaire himself, seemed to take up an interest in her and that cockroach Rita Skeeter wrote endlessly about her and Harry in the Daily Prophet. Surely, if others could see it then it wasn’t that far out of bounds. And when Harry set his eyes on her at the Yule Ball, well, it didn’t get past anyone that he had thought she was beautiful. It almost didn’t matter that Ron had insisted on ruining the night because of his jealousy. </p><p>Of course, the following year things had shifted enough in the world and in the trio’s dynamic that Hermione was once again thrown off balance. First there was Cho Chang and then Sirius had been killed, everything else becoming muddled after that. Everyone was so sure that she spent her time crying endlessly about Ron and Lavender, but no one considered that maybe it was because another Weasley was interfering with her happiness. When she was sobbing onto Harry’s shoulder, so enticingly close, but agonizingly far, it had more to do with her loneliness and own jealousy that Ginny had somehow stolen the very person that Hermione desperately wanted to keep. </p><p>Yet now, watching as Harry made their afternoon tea, the cold air of late fall knocking on the windows of their flat, Hermione saw things for what they really were. Time and circumstance had been pulling them together from the beginning, weaving them together so tightly that any other outcome, anything other than the pair of them being together, was impossible to even consider. Even before the moment in the hotel, Hermione knew how Harry felt or at the very least understood that friendship was no longer the title of their relationship. It had become more and more visible over the last several months that he loved her more than she had ever hoped he would. And she loved him just as much. </p><p>Everyday since they had moved into the flat she had berated herself for foolishly telling Harry they needed to wait. In the moment, she had been so tired, strung out from spending the day worrying that asking Dobby for help was their downfall. It was all too much when Harry started leaning into her, started fixing her with a gaze that made her flush and feel entirely exposed. Hermione stuck by her logic though, she did really worry what would happen if they took those last few steps in the middle of the war but it was growing impossibly harder when she felt the weight of Harry’s hand in hers every morning when she woke. </p><p>There was something sacred and beautiful happening between them, something that wouldn’t have existed without their time spent on the run, but Hermione knew that even so they would have been together. Because in the end her soul recognized his soul and just as they walked together in this life, she suspected they had walked together in many before, and would continue to do so forever. </p><p>It was challenging to put into words, even for Hermione, but there was no question that their magic had been combining and morphing and evolving together like the earth, sun and rain make a sapling grow and they were most certainly branches of the same tree - one instead of two.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"I can't decide if it's a choice<br/>Getting swept away<br/>I hear the sound of my own voice<br/>Asking you to stay<br/>And all we are is skin and bone<br/>Trained to get along<br/>Forever going with the flow<br/>But you're friction<br/>This slope is treacherous<br/>This path is reckless<br/>This slope is treacherous<br/>I, I, I like it"</i>
</p><p> </p><p><i>Treacherous</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the delay. Also, please don't judge my Latin too harshly. I only have Google Translate at my disposal for the time being. </p><p>As always, feedback is appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mornings were a quiet affair in the flat. They often had slow starts, Harry always up before Hermione, and no work started before 11 o’clock. The winter blanket falling over London was just cold enough to keep them wrapped tightly in their duvet, socked feet brushing, fingers touching. It was a pleasant, sleepy time of day, where it was possible to suspend one’s awareness of the real world happening outside their window and live quite comfortably in the haven they had created.</p><p>Mornings were also the time that had been designated as Harry’s chance to the bathroom without any disruptions. It was the time of day that he was able to take full advantage of privacy, sometimes using up all the hot water and other times sitting on the closed toilet seat, clenched up fists pressed into his eyes while he tried not to panic. The more time that was passing, inching closer to a conclusion that was both clear and vague, the more it felt to Harry like he couldn’t breathe. It was beginning to feel more unlikely that they were going to be able to find the horcruxes, at least on their own, and he had begun feeling a listlessness that worried him and had begun keeping him awake at night.</p><p>If Hermione saw this anxiety she didn’t say, but Harry felt that he wasn’t being particularly subtle about his growing hopelessness. His time spent in the shower, trying desperately to figure something out, anything that could possibly push their mission forward, even just by a hair, was growing increasingly longer. Hermione may not have said anything, but she wasn’t so unobservant to not sense his despair. However, whatever she might have thought, she never tried to impede on his time in the mornings, maybe understanding that they each needed their own space, and that no matter how intertwined they were, they were still two separate halves that made up one whole. </p><p>So, Harry was understandably startled when Hermione called his name loudly from the other-side of the bathroom door one morning.</p><p>“Harry! Harry!” </p><p>Whipping the door open, wand poised and ready, Harry looked around the flat frantically, ready to fight an unknown danger.  When all he could see was Hermione standing before him with a book in her hands, he let his wand drop to his side and stared at her in questioning exasperation. He had one arm through the sleeve of his shirt, but the other hadn’t quite made it through in time and he knew he looked a mess. </p><p>“Oh, sorry,” she said sheepishly, biting her lip to hide her grin. Managing to pull his other arm into his shirt, Harry adjusted his glasses, and made no attempt to suppress the roll of his eyes.</p><p>“Try for a bit calmer next time,” he offered, going to stand next to her. </p><p>“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind,” she agreed with a nod before thrusting the large book into Harry’s hands. “Look at this!”</p><p>The wizard looked down to the book and then looked back up to her blankly. The book was titled <i>Duo Et De Magia</i> and it looked very old.  </p><p>“Should I know the importance of this book?” </p><p>“Well, no,” Hermione said with a huff, snatching the book back from Harry. “But what’s interesting is I don’t either!” </p><p>The flush of excitement on her cheeks was gentle, her sprinkled freckles looking like tiny stars against her skin, and Harry thought she was perfect.</p><p>“That seems unlikely,” he said deadpan, seating himself at the table where he picked up the last bit of Hermione’s toast and popped it into his mouth.</p><p>“Yes, I know that is rather unusual,” she conceded, her eagerness completely bypassing Harry’s attempt at humor. “Which is the reason this is so interesting. I believe the title is in Latin and loosely translates to something like <i>Magical Two</i> or <i>The Magic of Two</i>.”</p><p>Placing the book down on the table between them, she took a seat and looked at him with wide, bright eyes. The expression on her face was one that Harry was quite familiar with, something he had seen often throughout their time at school. It was the look that meant that Hermione was about to share with him something she thought of great value and intrigue.</p><p>“Remember how I asked Dobby to bring me two books from Hogwarts and he brought back three?” </p><p>Harry nodded, brushing away crumbs from the tabletop and leaning forward on his elbows, signaling to her that she had his undivided attention. </p><p>“When he had given me the third book, he had said that it was a second volume of <i>Detecting Dark Magic</i> and that Winky hadn’t known which to bring. I had thought it odd that I had never heard of a follow-up text to the original, but was focused on getting us to safety so I put it in my bag and forgot about it. But this morning, when I took it out to inspect it further, I found it had changed.”</p><p>And she was right, it didn’t look like the same book Dobby had given them.This book was far older, the cover faded like it had been read many times or perhaps left out on a bookshelf where sun had bleached the dark leather tan instead of brown.</p><p>“It must have been charmed, the cover of the book changed to hide the actual text,” Harry said with more interest, his curiosity peaked. “Why would someone do that?”</p><p>Hermione was running her fingers along the spine of the book, lip caught between her teeth, deep concentration pulling together her eyebrows. Harry watched her as she moved her fingertips across the aged leather and he felt a shiver run across his skin as he imagined her exploratory touch searching his body for answers instead. </p><p>“More importantly,” she said, her voice distant, as though lost in deep thought. “Who would do that and why did they make sure <i>we</i> got the book?”</p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>Winter was quickly approaching, the first snow coming to London in mid-December. The icy weather and lack of leads had driven the pair into hibernation rather than exploration. It was becoming increasingly harder to rationalize leaving the flat to search for the horcruxes as they really had no idea where to look and the bitter chill of the cold bit across their skin harshly. It was instead far easier to remain nestled away in the flat, a fire burning deliciously from a fireplace Hermione had transfigured in the living room, the flames giving off the most inviting warmth that was far too alluring to leave behind. </p><p>They had learned early on, even before Ron had left, that the locket was deceptive in its simplicity. Although small and maybe at one time a beautiful piece of jewelry, it was in fact insidious and marred with a dark magic that made a person’s skin crawl just looking at it, let alone wear it. Neither Hermione or Harry had worn the locket since moving into the flat, instead keeping it tucked away in Hermione’s bag, close enough to be safe, but far enough out of sight to be benign. Of course, the horcrux called to Harry, making him sometimes flinch or recoil away when it was disturbed amongst the sea of treasures Hermione kept hidden away, inching dangerously closer to where their fingertips could brush if they weren’t careful. </p><p>Its continued existence plagued the two in such a way that at times they didn’t need to be wearing it for frustrations to boil over.</p><p>“This is fucking hopeless.” Harry would sometimes say irritably to the witch. “There has to be another way to destroy the bloody thing! How is it possible that even <i>you</i> haven’t figured it out yet?”</p><p>It was a backhanded compliment that Harry never meant to say to her and although Hermione knew that there was no true accusation in his words, it didn’t make his outburst any less hurtful. </p><p>“Take a walk, Harry. You’re being a dick.”</p><p>And he would storm out of the flat, one hand tangled tightly in his hair, as though trying to pull unknown answers from his brain through the top of his head. He rarely made it to the bottom of the stairs though, before the anger was replaced by remorse and he turned slowly back up to the flat, head hung in shame. </p><p>“I don’t know why I’m so awful,” he would whisper to her later, guilt and disappointment making him pull each of his fingers with a loud pop, anxiously cracking his knuckles. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Yes, well, lucky for you I know you don’t mean it,” she would reply casually. “And lucky for me you don’t seem to learn your lesson. You’re on dinner duty, plus kitchen cleanup, and we are watching <i>Pride &amp; Prejudice</i>.”</p><p>Harry would nod solemnly, but no amount of guilt could stop the roll of his eyes at the last part of her demands. He would never admit that he quite liked watching Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth playing Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy or that the BBC series put Hermione in a particularly lovey mood that always translated into her snuggling up to him on the couch more than usual. </p><p>⤧ ⤩ ⤧</p><p>Things for Harry and Hermione had grown comfortable, a sense of relative calm settling over them as they blended in easily with their muggle surroundings. There hadn’t been any sign of a threat, nothing out of the ordinary happening, the protection wards Hermione placed around their flat not once detecting even a breath of danger. It seemed that her plan had worked flawlessly, the couple having integrated seamlessly into their roles and no one was none the wiser.</p><p>Harry had known that regardless of whether there was jeopardy or not, his feelings for Hermione would not falter. This was proven to be true as he found his affection and even devotion for the witch growing tenfold. The depth of which their relationship had deepened over their time in the flat seemed to make any pretense of friendship rather moot. They had not kissed and there had been no confessions of love outside of their brief conversation at the hotel, but it was rather obvious that the two had slipped into a partnership that, although lacked physical intimacy, transcended any type of platonic relationship.</p><p>The transformation from friendship to true life partners was nearly so complete that at times Harry thought maybe he could be happy even if things stayed exactly as they were. It had crossed his mind on several occasions that perhaps never kissing Hermione was worth spending the rest of his life at her side, straddling the line between friends and lovers. And Harry maybe could have continued on just as they were if two things hadn’t simultaneously happened to throw him once again off balance.</p><p>The first was a new level of physical comfortability that seemed to emerge from Hermione as the cold made everything else retreat. As though in rebellion to the winter’s demand for layered jumpers, coats and scarves, Hermione had taken to revealing more and more of her smooth skin to Harry within the safety and warmth of their flat. It had happened at first slowly, pajama bottoms turning into pajama shorts, t-shirts into camisoles, but when steam rolled from the open bathroom door during Hermione’s showers Harry couldn’t help but notice the change. </p><p>Their touches had begun to linger, their feet and legs now tangling each morning with their fingers. Harry’s unruly hair, never safe from Hermione’s attempts to control it, had instead become a point of great fascination, her hands running through it periodically throughout the day when they were close or her fingertips tickling the little hairs on the nape of his neck as they watched telly at night. And it truly took every ounce of Harry’s willpower not to touch the place where her shirt had ridden up in her sleep, exposing the soft skin of her belly and dip of her hip or restrain himself from pulling aside her wild hair to drop kisses along her bare neck and shoulders as she passed him wearing an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off her shoulder. Her proximity and the way she moved around him, like a snitch just out of his reach, made him delirious with desire, the constant potential of <i>more</i> making his stomach clench with anticipation and his chest ache with need. </p><p>He respected Hermione, had no intention of breaking her boundaries or her trust. Despite his growing desperation and the seemingly endless curiosity of how her lips would taste festering in the back of his mind always, Harry was resolute in his decision; she needed to come to him. Instead, he found that when the heat from the flat grew a little too stifling or the intensity of his want verging on overwhelming him, he would conjure an excuse to escape into the London streets, putting pavement and distance between them. The only thing worse than losing Hermione would be losing her because of his own foolishness. Each night before slipping into bed beside her, as though hyping himself up for a quidditch match or potions exam, he would look himself in the mirror and repeat her words, “Not now, maybe someday. Not now, maybe someday.” </p><p>However, the second catalyst for the change in the flat was the quiet melancholy that had fallen over Hermione. He had seen the first glimpse of this sadness as they had walked home from picking up take away curries, a feather snow falling from the sky like the down from a torn pillow. Her bright, brown eyes had dulled in the light of the shop windows as they passed in silence and a look of somber reflection had hidden away the gentle smile that Harry loved so much. At the time he hadn’t really been sure what was drawing Hermione so deeply within herself, perhaps the stress of their mission or the frustration of being so unsure of what they were doing. Regardless, he simply held her hand a little tighter in his and kept her just a little closer the rest of the night. </p><p>But any hope he had of Hermione returning to her default mood of upbeat was quickly dashed as the days continued to grow shorter and her cheeriness more fleeting. He didn’t think she was depressed, but there was a cloud of unhappiness that hung about the flat. It wasn’t until he caught the dampness on her cheeks while they watched <i>It’s a Wonderful Life</i> on the telly one evening that he put the pieces together.</p><p>“Hermione,” he had said to her quietly as she brushed away her tears with the sleeve of her shirt.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>She hadn’t turned to look at him and he knew she was trying to hide her emotion.</p><p>“What does your family do for Christmas each year?”</p><p>The question had clearly surprised her, the look in her watery eyes hesitant and unsure.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Do you and your parents have any family traditions at the holidays? My uncle had his company’s annual Christmas party that they forced Dudley to go to and my Aunt Petunia always insisted on making this disgusting prune pudding, but other than balled up socks being shoved under my door as a gift, I never did anything for Christmas.” </p><p>Harry said all of this quite nonchalantly, the sadness that rang true in his words not meant to be the point of his questioning. He did have happy memories from the holidays, time spent at Hogwarts and with the Weasley’s, but he wanted to hear what Hermione remembered of her childhood.</p><p>“Well, my dad always insisted on getting the most absurdly large tree that rarely fit in our living room,” she began slowly, turning full body to look at him from across the couch. “And mum always made me Reindeer Poop.” </p><p>“What?!” Harry exclaimed, horrified.</p><p>“Not actual poop!” Hermione had laughed loudly. “It’s a holiday sweet. It’s made with pretzels and rice cereal and chocolate and nuts mixed together. I could eat my weight in it if someone let me.”</p><p>And for the rest of the night Hermione regaled him with stories about her short stint as a Christmas caroler, the time Crookshanks had nearly strangled himself with tree tinsel, and how her favorite ornament to put on the tree was a glass fairy her Mamie had bought her when she was a little girl.</p><p>“My parents always teased me because I would hang it on the backside of the tree, where no one could see it.”</p><p>“Why would you do that?” Harry asked, his hands moving lightly across the tops of her toes where they rested in his lap.</p><p>“Because I was convinced she was a real fairy and I knew that she wouldn’t reveal herself if she was out in the open for everyone to see,” she explained quietly, eyes burning into his and he knew she was sharing with him something that she had never shared with anyone else. “I checked on her each night, of course, to make sure she was alright. And every night, without fail, she had moved, sometimes on a higher branch, other times much closer to the bottom. I think that’s when I started to believe magic was real, before Hogwarts or even before strange things would happen to me. It started with my Christmas fairy.”</p><p>Listening to Hermione tell him about her childhood and the things she clearly missed about her parents and the holidays, it became obvious to Harry that the melancholy was actually a grief he would never truly understand. Yes, he knew what it was like to spend the holidays without his parents, without family and friends who cared, but he would never know what it was like to spend the holidays with loss for he had never had it to begin with. </p><p>It was the combination of this sadness and the way that Hermione came to bed in a camisole, wrapping herself around Harry in her sleep, that was making him doubt both his ability to keep a safe distance and Hermione’s insistence that they couldn’t be more than friends. How was he meant to spend every moment with the person he loved most in the world and not be able to say it to her whenever the opportunity presented itself? How could Harry listen to Hermione’s lamenting, watch her cry over the loss of her parents and her childhood and ultimately her innocence, and not pull her into him and whisper promises of a future where they would make up for lost time together? They were sprinting to the place where an inevitable collision was waiting for them, but he suspected that when they got there they would find that they had been standing there together all along.</p><p>Ultimately that collision exploded between them in one single moment a week before Christmas.</p><p>Harry had left early in the morning to make a dangerous, but necessary run to Diagon Alley for potions supplies. They were always in need of ageing potion, keeping up their appearance as twenty-somethings necessary for their continued disguise as muggles, and finding most of the ingredients had proven fruitless in muggle London. It wasn’t something they relished doing, but understood the necessity of it. Traveling together under the guise of polyjuice, they moved through the mostly abandoned street to the Apothecary. </p><p>However, that particular day, Hermione had not felt well enough to go and although she protested to Harry going alone, they both knew that neglecting their shopping any longer could be a dangerous gamble. After spending the better part of an hour convincing and reassuring the witch that he would be fine, Harry had left their flat under the invisibility cloak, hoping to avoid a run in with his neighbor who would likely not take kindly to coming across his secret twin in the lobby of his apartment building. </p><p>It had been an uneventful trip and Harry was exiting the Leaky Cauldron before the day had really even started, moving easily into the crowd of passing muggles, all bundled up on their way to work. After making a stop at a bakery for Hermione’s favorite berry danish and two cups of coffee, he made his way back to their flat, not bothered so much by the cold, more focused on getting back home to his sick girl than anything else.</p><p>But when he entered their flat, he was surprised to find that Hermione wasn’t in their bed and not sitting at their table pouring over a book. The bathroom door was ajar, but he didn’t hear the shower, and the rising panic of danger swelling inside of him wasn’t tampered until he heard the soft splash of water. Not wanting to startle the young woman, he walked quietly to the door, raising his hand to knock, but stopping mid-air as he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. </p><p>Hermione had transfigured the shower into a deep, clawfoot bathtub and the sweet smell of jasmine and ylang-ylang tickled his nose. The room was humid, steam thick and still rolling out of the porcelain tub, but he could just make out Hermione in the foggy mirror. </p><p>She was sitting in the tub, hair piled high on her head, knees pulled against her chest, head resting on her crossed arms, face turned away from the door. He could see the curve of her naked back, a mole he hadn’t known existed visible for the first time to him. There were loose baby hairs sticking to the nape of her sweaty neck and the cloak of the sudsy water preserved the modesty of the rest of her exposed backside. He knew that he should most certainly turn away, that he shouldn’t stand there leering at the woman soaking in the bath, but he felt rooted to the spot, completely unable to look away from the beauty before him.</p><p>He could tell from her posture and the quietness of the room that Hermione had once again been gripped by that same melancholy she couldn’t seem to escape from. Harry didn’t have to look at her face to know that there were likely tears on her flushed cheeks and a pain twisting her delicate features into something harder and more cold. It didn’t need to be spoken out loud that she felt alone in a way that Harry had yet been able to remedy, no matter how desperately he wished he could.</p><p>And that thought, that agonizing truth, was what made him realize that the charade they were acting out wasn’t sustainable. Hermione’s notion that being together would make them weaker was being disproved each time she suffered silently, that each moment she watched him watch her and they didn’t touch, didn’t kiss, didn’t <i>love</i> was in fact breaking them down rather than keeping them stable. They needed each other, needed every part of themselves to be touched by the other, the inside and the outside, and Harry didn’t want to keep taking walks to stop himself from just crossing the short distance that kept them apart. </p><p>In that moment he knew that holding back meant fighting something that had already won. There shouldn’t have been hesitation in him, shouldn’t have been an oscillation in front of the bathroom door. Instead, he should have been able to close the distance, sit beside her while she bathed, washed her hair, touched her wet skin, listen to her cry or laugh or talk or just sit in silence together, caught in the moment with her, two acknowledging that they were simply one.</p><p>So, stepping away from the door, Harry silently slipped back out of the flat unnoticed, a new confidence in his step. His life was potentially coming to a close, each day just another grain of sand in a quickening hourglass, and he didn’t have enough energy left in him to divide between fighting a war and fighting to keep away from Hermione. If he was going to die, and he suspected that it was going to come down to that, he didn’t want his last thought to be dismay at never learning the taste of Hermione’s mouth or the way she would fit in his arms or how she would look each time he whispered <i>”I love you”</i> to her. </p><p>No, he didn’t want to be left wondering until the very end. He wanted to die knowing that Hermione Granger would never doubt, not for a single moment, just how deeply and absolutely he loved her. </p><p>Then, now, always.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“This is a state of grace<br/>This is the worthwhile fight<br/>Love is a ruthless game<br/>Unless you play it good and right<br/>These are the hands of fate<br/>You're my Achilles heel<br/>This is the golden age of something good<br/>And right and real”</i>
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<p><i>State of Grace</i>, Taylor Swift</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Folks, I apologize for the delay, but life, ya know? </p>
<p>This is a shorter chapter, but I promise the following chapters will make-up for it. </p>
<p>Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The box sat between them on the table, the gold wrapping paper shining in the warm light coming from the living room lamp. There was a velvet red ribbon tied in a bow across the top of the gift and Harry’s knuckles were white from where his fists clenched in his lap. Hermione was sitting cross legged on the floor, eyes trained on the box, her book laid forgotten next to her.</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>Her voice was timid and incredulous, as though she had never received a gift before. A soft smile pulled at the corners of Harry’s mouth and he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at the witch.</p>
<p>“Open it, Hermione” </p>
<p>His voice was light and teasing, but his heart was banging away against his ribs. Of all the things Harry Potter was good at, choosing gifts for eighteen-year-old girls was perhaps not one of them. </p>
<p>He had left their flat and headed into the more dense part of London, a clear plan of action forming in his head. The city was alive with holiday shoppers and there was something more magical than unpleasant about the chilly December air. There was an invigoration coursing through his body that Harry had never known before. His determination and resolve made every step he took more sure, an exhilarating confidence making his hands tingle, sparks of invisible magic tickling the pads of his fingers. The rhythm of his heart beating out the strongest mantra: </p>
<p>
  <i>I love you, I love you, I love you</i>
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<p>And he did love her. Infinitely.</p>
<p>Now, as Hermione pulled the box closer to her, fingers delicately tugging on the bow, Harry knew his nervousness was more excitement than anything else. They were falling into step, finally running in tandem towards the finish line. </p>
<p>Lifting the lid, Hermione looked down at the contents of the box, eyes blinking quickly, silent. </p>
<p>“Okay, listen, I am painfully aware of how inadequate I am in the fashion department, especially when it comes to women, but I thought that I know you well enough to be a relatively good judge on what you would choose. And I know what I would think you would look most beautiful in.”</p>
<p>There was a slight tremble to Hermione’s hands as she carefully lifted the burgundy material from the box and held it out in front of her. The delicate material slipped out of the box and tumbled down, her brown eyes wide as she took in the dress fully.</p>
<p>“Harry…” </p>
<p>“Wait, before you say anything, let me go first, okay?”</p>
<p>She gave a small nod as she lowered the dress back into the box, her fingers lightly tracing the lace sleeves as she listened carefully to the wizard.</p>
<p>“I’m just going to get right to the point because I don’t want to muck this up.”</p>
<p>Hermione was watching Harry intently and he felt heat rising to his cheeks. Sucking in a deep breath, he stood up abruptly and started to pace the floor, unable to calm his restlessness.</p>
<p>“From the very beginning, you have always been there. Since you lied for Ron and I about that sodding mountain troll during our first year, I’ve been able to count on you. And at some point that changed into wanting you with me no matter what and eventually that morphed into needing you always.”</p>
<p>He paused his pacing to look at her for a reaction, but she was sitting perfectly still and quiet, listening to him trudge through like she always did. So he went on. </p>
<p>“What I am trying to say is that I can’t imagine life without you next to me and I don’t want to wait until after the war to tell you how much I love you, Hermione, because I can’t promise I will still be here then. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, even if it’s just a handful months more. So, even though I’ve done everything out of order, I guess I’m asking you if I can take you on a proper date?”</p>
<p>Harry was now standing still, holding his breath, looking at the most important person in his life with an openness and vulnerability that could not be mistaken for anything but the truth.</p>
<p>But the silence between them was stretching out uncomfortably and although he didn’t doubt that she felt the same way, he was starting to wonder if perhaps she truly was unwilling to be with him until after the war. He knew if she turned him down he would be okay because she would still be there, still be his best friend, but the pain would be immeasurable. Harry wasn’t being hyperbolic when he said he didn’t know if he would live past the war and never getting the chance to kiss Hermione would most certainly be the biggest regret of his short life.</p>
<p>After what seemed like several hours, she stood from the floor, legs a little shaky, and went to stand with him. She was so close and Harry could see the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and was sure that if he had the time he would be able to count each of her lashes, but he stayed quiet and unmoving. </p>
<p>Finally she opened her mouth to answer.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>The word was unexpected and his brows pulled together in confusion. </p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Harry,” Hermione said firmly with a nod, a familiar look of decisiveness playing across her face. “My answer is yes, of course. I will go on a date with you and I will most certainly let you love me for the rest of your life because it would be most inconvenient if you didn’t as I was planning to love you for the rest of mine.”</p>
<p>There was a heavy promise in her words that would need to be examined at some point, but that could wait. The softness of her mouth and the way her eyes were pulling him closer had become the most important things in Harry’s universe.</p>
<p>“Can I kiss you now?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>She had barely spoken the word before Harry had placed his lips against hers, taking the sweetest word she had ever spoken right off her tongue. Her lips were warm and tasted like honeyed tea and Harry had never tasted anything so divine. </p>
<p>His mouth moved gently over hers and he felt her body sag against his. They hadn’t broken apart, but he felt himself breathe in the sigh of relief that escaped from her and knew that she was letting herself fall into him.</p>
<p>When they did finally pull apart, lungs desperate for air, they stood with their foreheads touching, hands clasped tightly together between them. It was then that Harry realized their cheeks were damp and was surprised to discover it was his tears clinging to their skin. </p>
<p>He was crying.</p>
<p>And like it so often goes, once he realized he was crying, it only made him cry harder.</p>
<p>They were tears of joy and relief and elation and love - so much love. </p>
<p>But they were also tears of despair.</p>
<p>He would have Hermione until the very end, but he wasn’t naive enough to ignore how rapidly the end was approaching. And even if he lived another hundred years with her, it still wouldn’t be enough.</p>
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